


through the seasons

by ohnice1



Category: Happiest Season (2020)
Genre: Abby POV, F/F, Humor, No cheating, Post-Canon Fix-It, Romance, Slow Burn, but in third person, but this is definitely not a story about them I promise, there is Abby/Harper at the beginning of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnice1/pseuds/ohnice1
Summary: As it turns out, dramatic gestures aren't always enough...and why didn't Abby have any of this on her bingo card for the year?Or: Abby and Riley find themselves coming together after Harper and Abby fall apart. Their roles in each other's lives evolve through the seasons.Canon compliant up until the "one year later" point in the movie - so this basically diverges after Christmas morning.
Relationships: Abby Holland/Riley Johnson
Comments: 424
Kudos: 797





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Riley raised her glass at Abby from across that country club party and I just knew that I was going to be thirsty for these two no matter what happened with the canon couple and, well, here we are!!
> 
> Also, I really thought her name was Riley Bennett...

Abby isn’t too proud to admit that Christmas was, in fact, lovely. Her parents had loved Christmas and everything that went along with it, so it’s not like she was _raised_ to hate the season...it just sort of, you know, happened. Being with Harper and her family, though, was special. Throughout the turbulence of the days leading up to Christmas morning, Abby had begun to wonder just why, exactly, Harper was so fond of Christmas when it just seemed to be a high-pressure fiasco.

Maybe it’s due to the family’s shared realization that they’ve been treating each other like shit for their entire lives in the pursuit of (an image of) perfection, but the day finally makes it clear to Abby just what Harper is so fond of: the family traditions, the shared laughs, the comfortable lull in conversation as soft Christmas music plays following a big pancake breakfast, the evening drive around town for a last magical look at all the Christmas lights before the slow return to the dull, grey winter begins the next day.

The end of Christmas brings with it the end of the bubble she and Harper had been safely ensconced in for the past 36 hours. In their bubble, it was like another mini-honeymoon phase. They could enjoy being themselves for the first time in days, getting to know Harper’s family as a couple for the first time ever and focusing on the Christmas magic.

Now, though, it’s back to Pittsburgh and back to reality. At first, as the drive away from Harper’s childhood home starts, things feel fine, normal even. Harper and Abby sit quietly, the hum of the car and Mariah Carey’s Christmas album (because Harper isn’t ready to let go of the season until January, she insists) contributing the only sounds. Abby supposes Harper is as tired as she is, the lifting of the weight from the past few days allowing them both to finally feel just how unbearably _exhausting_ it all was. 

Abby thinks about the engagement ring, safely nestled in a balled-up pair of socks in her duffle bag. If you’d asked her five days ago, she would have painted a very different picture of how this drive would go.

She turns to Harper. “Hey,” she breaks into the reverie quietly, her voice gravelly from lack of sleep and a lot of talking and laughter the day before.

Harper smiles softly, briefly flitting her eyes towards Abby before refocusing on the road. “Hey back.”

Abby reaches up to brush an errant lock of hair back behind Harper’s ear before allowing her hand to trail down her cheek, then her arm, before settling on Harper’s thigh. “How do you feel?” she asks, giving Harper’s leg a soft squeeze.

Harper takes Abby’s hand, kissing it softly before moving their joined hands to Abby’s lap. “Tired,” she responds with a short, soft laugh. “But...relieved. Lighter.”

A smile tugs at the side of Abby’s mouth as she turns more fully towards Harper. “Good.”

“What about you?” Harper asks. “The last few days were pretty...intense.”

Abby laughs a bit too loudly. “That’s an understatement.”

“I know,” Harper agrees, her tone laced with pity. “I feel like we both need to hibernate for a week.”

“That would be a start.”

“Sorry, I didn’t really let you answer how you actually are,” Harper says.

“Yeah, uh, good,” Abby offers up in a way that Harper will jump all over the awkwardness of.

“Well, that was the opposite of convincing,” Harper complains. “What’s up, Abby?”

Abby feels a scoff pulling at the back of her throat but pushes it back. “It was just a lot, you know? I just have to, like, process all that now that I have some distance,” she explains. “Uh, from the situation.”

Harper frowns. “Process...what?”

Abby gulps, realizing that an honest answer is apparently going to surprise Harper and, if she’s frank, probably start a fight. “Oh, you know, it was just all crazy. Like, I was basically arrested, whaaat…” she offers up lamely.

It seems to work, some tension dropping from Harper’s shoulders. “Oh, yeah, totally. Probably wasn’t on your bingo card this year, huh?” Harper jokes.

“Not on my _life_ bingo card,” Abby mutters, head lolling towards the window.

“I’m so sorry.”

Abby sighs. “Yeah, well. Kids, right?”

“Right,” Harper agrees with a soft smile.

As she focuses on the snowy trees flying by outside the window, the car is back to only the sounds of the engine and Mariah. She assumes Harper probably chalks up the silence to their mutual exhaustion, which is part of the truth. Still, for Abby, she can’t escape the memory of Harper flirtatiously reaching for Connor’s arm, which burns at the back of her eyelids when her tiredness tries to pull them closed. When she notices she’s working her lower lip between her teeth with just a little too much pressure to be chalked up to chapped lips, she’s thankful Harper has to focus on the road.

Her phone buzzes softly in her pocket, and she slides it out, glancing down without moving her head from against the window.

**Riley** : Saw Tipper’s pic on Instagram...guess it all worked out after all. Happy for you. Have a safe trip back

Abby glances over at Harper, who’s still focused on the road. She types her reply with one hand, her other grabbing Harper’s hand just a little more tightly.

 _Guess so. Thanks. And thank you for everything._ She punctuates the text with the emoji with two beer mugs meeting in a toast.

**Riley** : That’s what friends are for

Abby swallows a laugh as she types her reply. _Didn’t have ‘friends with my girlfriend’s high-school girlfriend’ on my bingo card this year._

**Riley** : I didn’t have ‘friends with my high-school-life-ruiner’s girlfriend’ on mine, so welcome to the party. 5.5 days left for a bingo

This time, Abby fails at holding back the laugh, and it escapes through her nose.

Harper grins. “What?”

Abby’s eyes widen. “Oh, nothing, John just...uh, tweeted something funny. I’ll show you when we get home.” She turns her head further into the window, cringing. 

The lying quota for this year, along with the allowed number of bingo card mentions, had definitely been exceeded within a matter of days.

* * *

Harper goes back to work two days later, on Monday. Abby has another week off due to the winter break at the university...which means a lot of sitting in coffee shops with John, where Abby finds herself on Wednesday, working on her dissertation while he flips through manuscripts. After staring at the same citation for five minutes, unable to formulate the sentence to summarize the citation’s actual purpose, she’s thankful for the interruption from her phone. She expects a text from Harper, but it’s actually one of her clients thanking her for pet sitting and praising the fish tank’s cleanliness.

“God, you are so lucky,” she grumbles in John’s direction.

“Pardon?” he asks, slowly looking up from the manuscript he’s focused on. 

“I can’t believe you managed to find a fish close enough in appearance to actually fool anyone. ‘Thanks for the amazing job keeping Flipper’s tank clean,’ they said. You are unbelievable,” she grumbles, still unhappy about John’s fish failure.

“I have an eye for detail, as you know,” he says smugly. “And I’d like to think I earned back at least some points during my daring rescue of you from the WASP nest, thank you.”

“Oh, yeah, totally daring,” Abby playfully agrees, sipping her coffee. 

“Well, despite your lack of appreciation,” he begins as she tries to interrupt with complaints of having already thanked him, “it was absolutely worth it. Jane’s book is actually...really, really good.”

“Wait, she actually has a book? She’s not, just, like, planning to write one at some abstract point in the future?”

“Actual book,” he clarifies, lifting the stack of papers from the table. “An actual book that I’m actually going to fight like hell to make sure gets published.”

Abby’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. That’s...amazing.”

“Right? Her world-building is just incredible.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Yes, Abby, I know you prefer visual art of naked people from centuries gone by to the modern written form,” he huffs.

She laughs. “That’s not what I meant. Just that I guess I’ll read it...I don’t know. Later? When it’s, like, a published book?” she rambles. “Whatever. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

John seems to judge from her tone that it’s a serious comment, and he sets the manuscript to the side, grabbing his coffee mug with both hands. “Fire away.”

“Do you think I should...I dunno, confront Harper about everything that happened?” she asks nervously.

John’s eyes widen as he leans forward. “Confront? Not the word I’d use. Talk to her about? Absolutely. If you’re still thinking about it, it’s obviously not going to go away on its own.”

“Yeah, I know,” Abby admits. “I just...I’m worried I can’t express it all properly, and I don’t wanna start a fight. I know it was also really hard for Harper, and I heard what you said about everyone’s coming out story being different…”

“Abby,” John begins gently, “what you told me in the car after we left Harper’s family’s house wasn’t just about being in the closet. She also totally disregarded your feelings and comfort for four days. Closeted or not, flirting with her ex-boyfriend is pretty much the opposite of okay behavior.”

“That’s true,” she mumbles into her mug.

“You’re, like, disturbingly self-reflected most of the time, Abby. I’m sure you’ll find a way to bring it up without...closet shaming.” He furrows his brow, cringing. “I don’t know why I said that, but I trust you got my point.”

She stares into her now-empty cup. “Definitely got it.”

She had three hours to figure out what to say before meeting Harper at home for dinner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said by Wednesday, and it's Tuesday, so here it is! Thanks for all the amazing comments on the first chapter. I'll try to stick to this update frequency. And by the way: I, as a reader, am terrified of WIPs and usually avoid them, so trust me when I say: this fic WILL BE COMPLETED.
> 
> Before you start reading this chapter, I would like to casually remind you of the "slow burn" tag...

Abby winds up not even having to actively bring it up, per se. Under normal circumstances, she’d be pretty frustrated at not being able to calmly explain what she’d spent three hours working through in her mind.

These circumstances had not been normal for over a week.

Harper comes home giddy and practically bouncing. At first, Abby thinks she’s gotten a fantastic assignment or maybe even a promotion.

“I got us an invite to spend New Year’s Eve at The Promenade!” Harper squeals.

Abby’s brows shoot up. “You...wait...what? The Promenade?”

“I know!” Harper beams, grabbing Abby’s hands and pulling them to her chest. “Isn’t it amazing? That’s _the_ place to be on New Year’s!”

“Wow,” Abby manages, trying to fill the space while she collects her thoughts. “That’s...great.”

Harper’s face falls, and she drops their joined hands to hang between them. “You’re not happy.”

“No!” Abby exclaims before steadying herself. “I mean, no. It’s just, I don’t know, I thought we were going to John’s?”

Harper makes a dismissive sound. “Oh, yeah, I know! But like, The Promenade is so hard to get tickets for, and they were face value because my coworker’s husband has the flu! I thought it would be cool.”

“Yeah, no, great,” Abby stammers, forcing a smile. “I’ll let John kn-” Abby begins as Harper flits back to the front door to take off her coat. “Actually…” she trails off, taking a deep breath as she waits for Harper to finish kicking off her boots and turn around.

Harper walks back over to her, then leads her to the couch. “What is it, baby?”

Abby alternates between furrowing her brow and biting her lip for a moment. “I really wish you would have talked to me about this first.”

“Oh,” Harper says plainly. “I’m sorry, I had to decide kind of quickly, and I thought you’d be happy. Didn’t you tell me once that you always wanted to go there?”

“Yeah, for sure, it’s not that, it’s just I’m kinda...all surprised-out,” Abby explains, punctuating her statement with a deep breath.

“Okay…” Harper trails off. “Abby? What’s this really about?”

Abby grimaces. “Nothing. I just wish you would have talked to me first.”

Harper turns more fully towards Abby, sliding just a little further away on the couch. “Yeah, you said that already,” she replies defensively.

Abby crosses her arms tightly across her chest. “Yeah.”

Harper mimics her pose. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Abby mutters sarcastically.

“Oh, so we’re doing this? You’re just going to be mad and not even explain why?”

Abby feels something inside her snap with force. “Ohhh no, don’t even start with a high and mighty act right now.”

Harper’s jaw drops. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It means that you just dropped unpleasant-bomb after bomb on me for almost a week straight, and I’d kinda like to go back to the version of you that’s considerate and cares about what I want, too!” Abby clarifies, the volume of her voice steadily increasing with what feels like every word.

Harper looks sullen. “I said I was sorry,” she offers meekly.

Abby throws herself back against the side of the couch, covering her face with her hands. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t undo the damage, Harper!”

“I thought you wanted to move on and be with me,” Harper whispers, voice watery as tears brim in her eyes.

Abby sighs, softening. “I do,” she starts, sitting back up and placing a hand on Harper’s knee. “I do, and I’m here. But you also said you were going to show me that you would never surprise me like that again...and maybe I just need to _see_ some of you showing me that so that a surprise like this doesn’t have me feeling like I’m back in Jane’s basement bedroom wondering which version of you I’m going to see.”

Harper heaves a sigh. “But you know me, Abby. For a _year_. I love you, and five bad days don’t change that.”

Abby groans. “Five bad days?! That’s what that was to you? I started that trip planning to propose, and you made every single day we spent there even worse than the day bef-” Abby stops suddenly, eyes widening like saucers.

“What?” Harper whispers, her eyes fixated abstractly on the floor.

“Fuck,” Abby mutters, moving her hand from Harper’s knee to pinch the bridge of her nose. “That was...well, _not_ how I planned to broach that topic.”

“You think?” Harper quips.

Abby hums in agreement.

“I had no idea,” Harper whispers, eyes now fixated on her own hand as she fiddles with her necklace.

“That was kinda the point,” Abby replies. “But...really not the point of this conversation. I shouldn’t have brought that up now, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, sure, no… the heat of the moment,” Harper offers, trying to brush off the situation. “What a mess,” she continues, attempting again to diffuse the tension.

Abby laughs through her nose. “Little bit.”

Harper takes a deep breath, steadying herself, and makes eye contact with Abby again. “Let’s talk about... _that_ topic when we’re in a different place, okay?”

“Okay,” Abby agrees.

“Was every single day really worse than the day before?” Harper asks gently, looking very much like she knows the answer and doesn’t want to actually hear it.

Abby sighs. “Considering we escalated from ‘haha you’re my gay roommate for a few days’ to getting framed by an eight-year-old for shoplifting followed by you drinking with your ex until two A.M., then claiming I was suffocating you, and a final culmination of you flirting with said ex until just before aggressively denying me in front of about a hundred people, I would say yeah.” Abby feels like she recites the details like she’s reading a weather report.

Harper looks aghast. “Oh God, I am such an asshole,” she laments, dropping her head in her hands as a sob takes over her body.

Abby, not feeling like she should be the one doing the comforting in the situation, isn’t quite sure what to do.

Fortunately, Harper gives her an out. “I’m sorry,” she breathes out, straightening. “I know I don’t deserve to be the one sitting here crying right now.” She pauses, leaning to grab a tissue from the box on the coffee table, then wipes her eyes before continuing. “What else?”

Abby furrows her brow. “What else?”

“Yeah. What else is on your mind? You said, ‘Sorry doesn’t undo the wounds.’ I want to know what the wounds are.”

Over the next hours, Abby lets it all out: the parts she rehearsed earlier that afternoon and more. Harper listens, sometimes arguing, sometimes not, but at least listening.

For her part, Abby does her best not to invalidate how terrified she knew Harper was, but it still comes up.

Later, when they’re in bed and Harper is half-asleep, she speaks up suddenly. “Abby?”

“Hmm?” Abby replies, still lying stiffly on her back.

Harper is still facing the window. “You know I only...said and did what I did because I was scared, right?”

“Sure. I know,” Abby replies, but even she doesn’t believe herself. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Harper replies sleepily.

Abby lies in bed awake until well past midnight, alternating between tossing and turning as she thinks about the evening and scrolling mindlessly on her phone.

Around one, she finds herself looking at any and all social media she can find for both Connor and Riley. Connor’s, unsurprisingly, is almost entirely public and exactly as dull as she would have expected.

On the other hand, Riley’s is as locked down as Abby’s own profiles, privacy-wise. She sends a friend request and sets her phone face-down on the nightstand, exhaustion finally taking over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this is an Abby/Riley fic 😂 
> 
> Come yell at me on Twitter @ohniceshark


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally split into 2 chapters, but I decided to combine them because I know why y'all are here and it ain't this 😂

They don’t make it to The Promenade. They don’t make it to John’s, either. 

Harper wakes up on New Year’s Eve with the flu. John finds somebody to buy the tickets, and Abby and Harper spend the night at home.

“I’m so sorry,” Harper sleepily whines, sleep dragging her onto the fast track into the new year at just nine o’clock.

“Harper, stop,” Abby orders sympathetically. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Harper manages. “But I’m still sorry. I really wanted to make everything really special for you.”

Abby stands up. “I know,” she begins, tucking the blankets around Harper’s sides. “But for now, you really need to rest. You’re burning up,” she finishes as she touches Harper’s forehead.

“I just feel bad. You know they say how you spend New Year’s Eve is how you’ll spend your year,” Harper says with a pout.

“I’m pretty sure it’s physically impossible to have the flu for a whole year, so you’ve got that going for you,” Abby offers with a laugh.

“Mhm,” Harper mumbles into the pillow.

“‘Night, Harper.”

“‘Night.”

Abby trudges downstairs, contemplating how she’s going to spend the rest of the night - alone - as she grabs a beer from the fridge. She opens it as she flops onto the couch, thankful she manages not to spill anything.

She doesn’t let herself dwell on Harper’s comment about how you spend New Year’s Eve being some sort of omen for the year ahead as she flips the TV on to one of the network celebration specials.

At midnight, a message arriving on her phone causes it to vibrate off her stomach and onto the floor, stirring her awake. It’s a selfie of Riley and the two drag queens at the Oxwood. _Seeing as you sent me a friend request in the middle of the night, it’s only appropriate to write to you at midnight together with who I assume are now your favorite drag queens. Happy New Year from the Oxwood_

Abby smirks, the memory of singing along in the bar coming back to her mind. _Happy New Year. I’m sure they’re missing my incredible singing._

 **Riley** : I think it’s fair to say we’re all thankful your voice can’t be heard from Pittsburgh

Abby rolls her eyes. _Rude. Don’t you have some cheap beer to be drinking instead of insulting my talents?_

 **Riley** : Good point. 

She punctuates the text with a dark, grainy photo of a pint of beer.

_Cheers. 🍻 Have fun. Enjoy the rest of the night._

**Riley** : You too

As Abby slowly drags herself off the couch and upstairs, a selfie from John - his entire full house in the background, toasting and smiling - arrives.

 **John** : Happy New Year to you and Harper! We missed you here. I mean, I’m glad Harper kept her nasty germs at home, but we missed you guys. ❤️

 _Missed you more. Happy New Year 💚 ,_ She sends back, pocketing her phone as she quietly slips into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Abby sighs. She was never much of a New Year’s Eve person, but this definitely wasn’t what she expected from this evening.

Then again, it seemed she had no idea what to expect about anything anymore.

* * *

Depending on how you look at it, New Year’s Eve actually was, potentially, an omen. 

Harper, obviously, does not have the flu forever. But Abby, ever the overthinker as of late, can’t help but get caught up in the superstition as the next weeks crawl by.

Spending a lot of time alone? Check. Harper’s working more than ever.

Falling asleep on the couch? Check. Abby has a dissertation milestone rapidly approaching, leading to many late nights in front of her laptop.

Harper apologizing over and over again for everything under the sun? Check there, too. 

Harper’s practically _living_ on eggshells around Abby lately, and it’s painful. Abby knows it’s only because she’s trying, but it’s started to go too far.

“Where is Harper, anyway?” John asks one night over dinner in their kitchen.

“Working, I guess,” Abby explains into the fridge as she reaches for the parmesan cheese that’s drifted to the back.

John looks aghast as Abby turns around. “You _guess_?”

“Yeah, she’s working late a lot lately. She’s hoping to move to another beat and trying to pick up extra assignments to build her experience and sources.”

“Ooookay,” John begins, dramatically setting his fork down and picking up his wine glass, swirling it. “I’m sensing a little bit of...something,” he gestures up and down at her with his free hand.

“A little bit of something, huh?” Abby replies sarcastically, filling her mouth with pasta, which is definitely not in an attempt to avoid saying more. 

John rolls his eyes so hard that nearly all Abby can see is white. “Oh, please, don’t make me drag it out of you. You know how annoying I am when I want to know something.”

“True,” Abby manages to respond around her still-very-full mouth. “One second,” she says, but it sounds more like “wah hahoo.”

“Charming,” John quips, taking a sip of his wine.

“Anyway,” Abby says, mouth finally clear. “I dunno, the last few weeks have just been suuuper weird.”

“Oh, things were weird after five traumatic days with your future in-laws? Hard to imagine.”

Now it’s Abby’s turn to roll her eyes. “They’re not my future in-laws.”

“Yet...question mark…?” John tries to clarify.

“God, I don’t know!” Abby bursts out. “I didn’t even tell you that I accidentally told Harper that I was planning to propose a-”

John slaps his hand to his chest. “ _I’m sorry_ , you _accidentally_ told your girlfriend about your plans to propose?”

Abby drops her fork, swapping it for her wine glass. “We were having an argument about everything that happened while we were with her family, and I sort of accidentally said something like, ‘I started out the trip planning to propose and instead every day got worse than the day before,’ or something.” She takes a large gulp of her wine.

“Yikes,” John comments quietly. “How did she react?”

“Shocked.”

John sighs. “Your storytelling skills really leave something to be desired. What did she _say_ , Abby?!”

“That she had no idea. Then I apologized for bringing it up at that moment because _obviously_ , that wasn’t how I wanted to tell her that. Then we just kinda, I dunno, kept arguing. Or discussing.” She runs her free hand through her hair, the memory making her feel tense.

“Have you talked about it again since then?”

“Not once,” Abby answers simply. “Sorry, no further story to add on that one.”

John smiles a little. “Fair enough.”

“But things have been weird. Like, tense? I dunno. So that’s probably the ‘little bit of something’ you’re sensing. I feel like Harper’s just walking on eggshells around me all the time, always apologizing for every little thing and going overboard to try to, like, make stuff up to me. It goes so far that we’re both just tense as hell and wind up fighting.”

“Sounds like you need to fuck it out,” John advises.

Abby decides to take his suggestion as a serious one. “Yeah, well, that’s also...not happening.”

His eyes grow wide. “Since...when? Like, at all ever? Or you just don’t want to, like, today? I’m confused.”

“Obviously, it’s happened before, dumbass,” Abby jokes.

“Oh, I know. The memory of hearing your evening activities and Harper’s dolphin-like sound effects through the wall on our road trip last spring haunts me,” he complains into his now-empty wine glass, which he casts a sullen look into before reaching for the bottle to refill it. “I meant, like, not at all since you’ve been back, not in the last week, you’re not in the mood today, dot dot dot.”

Abby shoves another forkful of pasta in her mouth. “Not once since we’ve been back. And she doesn’t sound like a _dolphin_ ,” she defends with a roll of her eyes.

“Could we maybe identify a different defense mechanism to avoid sensitive topics besides your current ‘mouthful of food’ tactic?”

“Sorry. I just...I think about this stuff pretty much all the time. I mean, not sex...uh, well, sex too, but more, like...this whole thing?” Abby runs her hands through her hair again - it was either that or food. “I don’t feel like I’m living with the same person anymore,” she finally admits.

John reaches across the table and grabs her hand. “Do you think maybe Harper feels the same way about you?”

“Maybe,” Abby admits readily. “I feel like I was always such a chill person. You said it yourself - our relationship was perfect. We never fought. Now it feels like I’m physically incapable of being chill about anything and we’re fighting all the time. She’s not a robot, so I guess she’s as ‘what the fuck’ about it all as I am.”

“You really are a therapist’s dream, mouthful of food tactic aside,” John comments easily. “Anyway. Maybe you two just need to find your routine again. Less work, more...play,” he finishes with a smirk.

Abby bites at her lower lip. “Maybe,” she comments contemplatively. 

“I think you’re both just overthinking it.”

At that moment, John’s optimism makes Abby feel better. Hopeful.

* * *

Overthinking it isn’t the problem.

After her conversation with John, Abby commits to an experiment: no more dwelling on the trip. No more being gun-shy when Harper suggests plans or asks a question with more anxiety than is necessary. No, Abby decides she’s going to live in the moment and focus on the Harper she always knew and loved and pretend everything is _fine_. Fake it ‘til you make it.

So when Harper comes home around half an hour after John heads home and immediately says, “I’m sorry, I’m so tired, is that okay?” when Abby lingers just an extra second while kissing her ear, Abby doesn’t worry.

They later argue over the empty toothpaste.

And when Harper doesn’t respond at all to the picture Abby sends her of the black lace bra she bought and wore specifically on their _very_ active Valentine’s Day the year before, along with a suggestive text, she chalks it up to bad reception and a busy workday.

They spend the night arguing about how it just would have been nice for Harper to let Abby know this time that she wasn’t going to be home until ten.

They finally have sex four days later after Harper absentmindedly comments, “God, can you believe we haven’t had sex in like four weeks?”

After Harper falls asleep, Abby texts John and asks him if he can meet her for coffee in the morning.

She falls asleep with a knot in her stomach.

* * *

Bright and early the next morning, John and Abby are huddled over cups of coffee and their laptops.

“Abby,” John says pointedly, still typing and looking intently at his laptop.

“Hmm?” she responds distractedly, rapidly scrolling through her dissertation.

He looks up. “As much as I love your company, pray tell why I got a late-night text from you asking to meet this morning?”

Abby tenses, stopping scrolling and staring straight ahead. She closes her laptop slowly.

“Oh, that’s serious,” John comments, mirroring her.

“You know how you said Harper and I just needed to ‘fuck it out?’” Abby begins, finishing the sentence with air quotes.

“Yeah…” he says skeptically, cringing. 

“Don’t make that face. I’m not going to give you a bunch of gross details.”

John presses his hand to his chest. “Oh, thank god.” 

“As if I would ever,” Abby grumbles.

“Dolphin, sweetie. It was traumatic.”

“Anyway,” Abby interjects. “It took, like, four days-”

“You had a four-day sex marathon?!” John exclaims, earning more than a few stares from around the coffee shop.

“Jesus, would you keep your voice down?!” Abby hisses. “Chill out. I meant it was four days after we talked about it until it happened.”

“So...last night,” John clarifies. “After which time...you texted me?” He continues after Abby nods to confirm the timing.

“Yep.”

John scrunches his nose. “As much as I hate to say it, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that my suggestion was wrong.”

Abby sighs, taking a long sip of coffee. “I promised not to give you dolphin-level details, and I won’t, so please don’t interrupt me.”

John makes a zipping motion over his lips and sits back in his chair.

“You know there’s this whole, like, ‘lesbian bed death’ thing. Like, couples that are together for a while just stop having sex. And, I mean, I’m sure that’s true, but Harper and I were only together for a year, and it was never like that...and last night,” she pauses, sighing dramatically when John squirms in his chair, “felt like the most...I dunno, like, tick-box exercise-y sex ever.”

John leans forward slowly, deliberately. “Meaning…”

“It literally started with Harper saying, ‘can you believe we haven’t done it in four weeks’ and then we did it exactly once, and she went to sleep.”

“Well, not every round can be a marathon,” John attempts.

Abby shakes her head, looking off to the side. “No, it wasn’t like that. It was really just...going through the motions.” She takes a deep breath and swallows thickly before continuing. “John, I...it was like neither of us was really even there,” she finishes nervously.

“Did you talk this morning?”

Abby shakes her head, fighting to push back the tears threatening to well. “She left, like, super early today.”

John raises an eyebrow. “Is that normal?”

“Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “Late nights, pretty much always these days. Early mornings...this is the first one I can remember. Like, ever.” 

The tears are welling now, and John notices, moving around the table to the empty chair next to Abby. He puts an arm around her, pulling her into his side.

“What am I supposed to do?” she whispers, pushing back the feeling of her throat tightening that’s always just one step before a sob sneaks out.

John doesn’t reply; he just pulls her closer and rubs her arm as he puts his cheek on top of her head.

They sit like that for a few minutes, Abby focusing on calming her breathing. “Okay,” she says, mostly to reassure herself, as she straightens up in her chair and uses her napkin to wipe her eyes. “Sorry about that.”

“Please,” John says, rubbing her arm one more time before getting up to move back around to the other side of the table. “I’d be worried if you weren’t emotional about your relationship-” he stops abruptly, clearing trying to put some words back in a box, “doing whatever it’s doing.”

Abby laughs ruefully. “Yeah, and what’s it doing?”

“You tell me,” John counters softly.

“I don’t even know. Like six weeks ago, I was buying an engagement ring, and now I’m crying in a coffee shop telling my best friend I had sex with a stranger.”

Abby tries to ignore the young couple glaring at her as they exit the café, but John calls out, “She means metaphorically!” which renders her attempt moot.

“Keeps getting better,” she mutters under her breath.

John grabs Abby’s hand across the table. “Six weeks ago, you didn’t know that your partner lied to you for almost half your relationship about coming out to her parents and you certainly hadn’t endured five days of your partner not even treating you the way a decent _friend_ would, Abby. I know we all want to love our partners unconditionally, but those conditions generally need to avoid making us miserable.”

“Yeah,” Abby acquiesces with a half-hearted nod. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t understand how we just both became totally different people so...suddenly.”

“Maybe you’re the same people you’ve always been, and that situation just brought out parts of each of you that neither of you had the occasion to see before,” John offers. “You said it yourself...you were always so chill, but being ‘chill’ with your partner requires some trust. Sounds to me like Harper might’ve lost that.”

* * *

Abby’s day takes another frustrating turn when, just as she’s about to get home, she gets a call from her Ph.D. supervisor letting her know that they have to reschedule their review - which she’d spent the last week drowning in preparations for - for the third time due to her second supervisor’s scheduling conflicts.

“I can’t keep doing this!” she grumbles as she trudges through the front door, struggling to kick off her boots without using her hands. “I barely even slept this past week,” she continues, dropping her bag on the floor. “I really need this to be done,” she finishes just as she turns to move into the kitchen.

Harper is standing in the doorway, expression blank but arms crossed tightly across her chest.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for your support and for, uh, listening,” she rambles. “Right, yeah. That works for me. Thanks. Have a nice evening.” She ends the call and puts her phone in her pocket, directing her attention towards Harper. “Hi. You’re home early.”

“Hi,” Harper says softly. “John?”

“What?” Abby says, surprised.

Harper doesn’t answer the question. “What can’t you do anymore?” 

Abby furrows her brow. “Harper…”

Harper doesn’t speak but makes an expectant face.

Realization dawns on Abby, and she makes a ‘stop’ motion with her hands. “Wait, did you think I was talking to John about you?”

“Weren’t you?”

“No!” Abby exclaims. “That was my supervisor, and I was bitching about my diss review being rescheduled _again_.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Abby snaps, moving past Harper into the kitchen.

“You sure?” Harper challenges her.

“Am I sure I was talking to Professor Simmons? Yeah, pretty sure.”

Harper moves to stand on the other side of the counter from where Abby is. 

“Why would you even think that, anyway?” Abby pushes.

“I don’t know, Abby, maybe because I can’t remember the last day that went by that we didn’t argue about something? Not _that_ out of the question.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. I was there for that, too,” Abby says before taking a sip of the water she just put in a glass.

“So then is it really that unreasonable for me to hear you saying ‘I can’t do this anymore’ and think you’re talking about me? You already tried to leave me once, remember?”

“Oh please,” Abby snaps. “You’d just finished humiliating me in front of your entire family and all their friends after four days of treating me like shit. You would have done the same fucking thing, so don’t act like I was walking out on you for being a perfect angel.”

“Yeah, I know, Abby, you remind me of it every fucking day! I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I wasn’t hiding you. I was hiding me!”

“It’s not about hiding anyone!” Abby shouts. Noticing her volume, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before continuing. “It’s about the fact that you couldn’t even manage to treat me like a _friend_ for four days, and now I can’t even trust you to consider what I want when you...I dunno, go grocery shopping or something!”

Harper laughs ruefully. “And what am I supposed to do about that?”

“I don’t know!” Abby exclaims as she slumps down in a chair. “Maybe you thought I was telling John I couldn’t do this, meaning us, anymore because you don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Oh, are you getting your Ph.D. in psychology now?” Harper challenges her.

“Don’t do that.”

“No, please, tell me! What’s it called? ‘Projecting?’” she says with air quotes. “Maybe you’re projecting about projecting!”

Abby scrunches up her face. “What?”

Harper sighs, dropping into the other chair and burying her face in her hands. “I don’t know,” she mumbles into her palms. 

Abby can hear Harper’s breathing change the way it always does when she’s about to cry. 

“Harper,” Abby says softly, gently pulling at the other woman’s hands. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Harper sobs, allowing Abby to pull her hands away.

“I love you.”

Harper smiles halfway. “I know.”

“But?”

“But I think I made you fall out of love with me,” Harper says, a sob taking over her throat as soon as she finishes speaking.

Harper’s words, along with the sight of her breaking down, is enough to send Abby into tears as well. Harper’s quiet, “Am I right?” leads to Abby’s first sob, too.

“I don’t know,” she finally manages, pulling a napkin from the café out of her pocket. “Is it true for you?”

“I don’t know,” Harper admits, each word more watery than the previous. “I don’t know. I do know that it feels like no matter what I do or say, you don’t look at me like someone who apparently wanted to marry me six weeks ago.”

“How do I look at you?”

“I don’t know,” Harper says again. “I sound like a broken record, but I don’t know anything anymore. You look at me like...like you’re looking for something you lost.”

“That’s how it feels.”

“I don’t wanna lose you,” Harper cries quietly, reaching for Abby’s hand.

Abby takes a deep breath, pushing back the tightness in her throat and squeezing Harper’s hand. “I’m really afraid that maybe you already did.”

Harper lets out a loud sob before controlling herself slightly, but she doesn’t respond right away. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room come from both of them sniffling softly. Finally, Harper speaks, barely above a whisper. “Did we just break up?”

Abby isn’t sure how to respond. “Is...is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” Harper answers quickly. “But we’re not us anymore, Abby.”

“No,” Abby admits. “Doesn’t feel like it. It’s not fair to either of us anymore.”

“So...that’s it then?” Harper lets go of Abby’s hand and reaches for a napkin to wipe her eyes.

“I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation,” Abby comments, sounding like she’s talking to herself.

“Definitely wasn’t on the bingo card I made in my head for this year,” Harper says sarcastically. “But you didn’t really answer my question.”

“Maybe I didn’t really want to,” Abby admits. “Yeah, I guess...that’s it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in there!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I still plan to keep the every-other-day update schedule, but the last few days had some chaotic turns of events (I'm fine) and I genuinely didn't have time to post an update, especially since I combined 2 chapters in the last update. Should be back on track from now on :)

If Abby toed the line with being a Christmas hater, she was firmly in the “Valentine’s Day sucks” camp. It’s not like she was on a vengeful quest to bitterly rage against the day or anything, but she happens to be two weeks into singlehood, and the whole thing is just kind of...meh. 

Sure, she’d brought Harper flowers on Valentine’s Day last year, but she’d grabbed them spontaneously on her way over to Harper’s place for an incredibly low-key evening at home.

This Valentine’s Day was undoubtedly looking _different_. As the day rolls on and the sun goes down, giddy and frustrated couples alike drifting down snow-lined streets arm-in-arm or hand-in-hand as they head towards whatever romantic destination they’ve reserved, Abby’s stomach turns over and over. Ollie, the black Cocker Spaniel she’s dogsitting, flops down next to her and nudges his head into her thigh as she checks her phone for what feels like the hundredth time in an hour.

It’s not like she _wants_ Harper to text her; quite the opposite, actually. But the fact that they’ve exchanged at least one text every day, even over mundane things, makes going incommunicado today feel intentional.

Granted, she wasn’t opening that line of communication today, either, but that was beside the point. The point, Abby thinks, is that keeping that kind of distance today feels like both of them admitting something.

Over the past two weeks, they’d both had their “what if” moments. _What if Harper really had come out in the summer,_ or _what if Abby hadn’t come,_ or even _what if we just need a little time apart_. But every day, things evolved a little bit more. A little less crying, a bit more space. Abby had all of her stuff out in less than a week.

...which brings Abby full circle back to the current situation, Ollie’s head now actively pressing into Abby’s thigh as she neglects to give him the ear scratches she’s sure he’s not above begging for. She smiles at him fondly as she tosses her phone to the other side of the couch before placating him with plenty of ear scratching. 

“You don’t care that it’s Valentine’s Day, do you?” she asks him.

He makes a little grumble that she tells herself was a “yes” and not just a reaction to thoroughly enjoying the ear rub. 

Before she can feel too vindicated by his agreement, though, she hears her phone vibrate and watches it nearly fall between the loose cushions as a flurry of messages comes in. The turning in her stomach that had been present all day enters turbo mode, and she hugs Ollie close to her side as she stretches to grab her phone.

She wouldn’t say she feels _relieved_ when she sees it’s not Harper, but she sure feels...something. Thrown, maybe?

 **Riley:** I have an important question

 **Riley:** don’t ask for details, just answer because it’s really important

 **Riley:** which I just said twice, so that should tell you something

 **Riley:** what songs do drag queens sing on Valentine’s Day??

Abby scrunches her brow, contemplating Riley’s question as a grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. As she begins to type, _are you drunk?_ , another message arrives.

 **Riley:** okay I just realized that if I don’t give you more info you’re going to ignore my question and ask if I’m on drugs or whatever, and I don’t need that kind of accusation in my life right now

 **Riley:** anyway, please humor me and answer this super important question because I’m lying in an on-call room at the hospital wondering if this is gonna be a butthole-hamster-in-a-toilet-paper-roll kind of night or a shoulda-just-gone-home-and-hoped-for-no-calls type of night

Abby laughs suddenly and loudly, causing Ollie to jump. “Ohhh, sorry!” she coos at him, petting him with her left hand briefly before moving it to type her response. She pretends not to hear him huff.

 **Abby:** Okay, um, wow. I have a lot of questions but first and foremost, hi to you too. And, I dunno, aren’t you like, the expert on that? Can’t say I would have had Must Be Santa on the playlist but here we are. I guess maybe, like...Believe by Cher? 🤷🏻♀️

 **Riley:** yes hi sorry

 **Riley:** anyway,ugh, you’re pretty much the only other person I know who’s been to a gay bar unironically and I was counting on you

 **Riley:** except Harper BUT WELL

 **Riley:** Cher is fine. But what about a solid dramatic rendition of It Must Have Been Love by Roxette?

 **Riley:** you know, working the room for the lonely singles hoping to get laid and whatnot

 **Abby:** I could definitely see that. What about You Oughta Know by Alanis? Who doesn’t love a nice dose of rage with their Valentine’s Day bitterness? I just remembered that I was actually in a drag bar on VDay once in college and one of them did Milkshake by Kelis. If I could remember her name, I would 100% Youtube a video because it was incredible. Never thought I would see so many lesbians losing their minds about boys in the yard

 **Riley:** making everyone in the room thirsty as hell is the hallmark of a top-tier queen tbh

 **Riley:** thank you for participating in my important survey

 **Abby:** Can we circle back to the butthole hamster now? Because I have questions.

 **Riley:** ok I know you’re like Pittburgh’s Next Top Pet Sitter but please don’t call the pet police or something

 **Riley:** I’m honestly shocked you have never heard of this story/urban legend

 **Riley:** the gist is that some men allegedly occasionally attempt to let some hamsters explore their buttholes for pleasure purposes and things end tragically for the hamsters when the escape route gets cut off, if you know what I mean

 **Riley:** you can thank me later for not making you google that

 **Abby:** I’m just gonna get ahead of the game and thank you now because I 100% do NOT wanna know for sure if that’s more than an urban legend. Why the drag queen question? Is that your preferred happy place when your brain visits dark and scary places?

 **Riley:** I mean, I would argue that men’s buttholes are absolutely dark and scary places I don’t care to visit mentally or physically 💩

 **Riley:** but to answer your question, I’m honestly just bored and I shouldn’t even be here, but my coworker spontaneously got asked on a date that I’m not 100% sure wasn’t just a booty call

 **Riley:** and I had big plans to get drunk by myself at a drag show tonight, so here we are

 **Riley:** before you ask, yes, I could have said no, but I love it when people owe me favors

 **Riley:** you never know when you’ll need someone murdered

 **Abby:** I’m going to ignore the fact that this is the second time since we met less than 2 months ago that you made a murder joke and instead just agree that I also have no interests in men’s buttholes. Sorry your plans got ruined

 **Riley:** who doesn’t love a good butthole conversation on Valentine’s Day?

 **Riley:** I blame myself

Abby chuckles, noticing this time that Ollie is sleeping so soundly that he doesn’t even budge. She notices the time - just after nine - and decides to quickly take him outside one more time before he enters a deep sleep and she has to practically drag him outside. Once he’s done - which is, to Abby’s delight, quick - she gets ready for bed and flops into bed before realizing she didn’t reply to Riley.

Not that there was so much to reply to, but Abby hates it when conversations don’t have an actual end.

 **Abby:** Sorry, had to take the dog out. Can’t have my title of Next Top Pet Sitter taken from me. Anyway, I also blame you, but considering the multiple times you saved my ass over Christmas I’m willing to let it slide

 **Riley:** wow I am honored. I knew there was something to paying it forward

 **Riley:** as much as I would love to find out what other favors you owe me, I’m being paged

 **Riley:** yes we have beepers

 **Riley:** thanks for the distraction. now please send no-butthole-hamster vibes

 **Abby** : I will do my very best. Good luck

Abby falls asleep wondering if Riley heard about her and Harper and what that would even mean if she had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering about the hamster thing, which I absolutely did not make up, and doesn't want to Google, here you go. https://www.snopes.com/fact-check/richard-gere-gerbil/
> 
> I used a hamster instead of a gerbil because hamster is a funnier word and, honestly, I saw a funny post on Instagram today about a hamster 🤷🏻♀️


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ate an entire bag of mint M&M's before writing this chapter so I was jacked up on sugar and ready to rumble

Riley had heard about Abby and Harper. Probably. Maybe.

Okay, honestly, Abby can’t be sure _when_ it had happened. Still, Abby discovers a week or so after Valentine’s Day that Tipper deleted the picture of Harper and her from Instagram, indicating that Harper had told her family about the breakup and the whole town had probably already heard as a result.

Much like the total lack of communication on Valentine’s Day, it feels like something heavier than it is...but not quite like the punch in the gut from Valentine’s Day. More like a little nudge that reminds Abby of just how drastically her life has changed in a matter of weeks.

She doesn’t let herself dwell on the thought of Harper probably having to work up the courage to tell her family about the dissolution of a relationship that had thrown their shared world off its axis when it had stayed hidden. Nor does she allow herself to hang on to the pang of guilt that trails along in the distance behind that thought.

Abby shakes her head, dragging herself back into the present, where she’s currently sitting on a camping chair (Ikea delivery is _slow_ ) in her new apartment, a single-serving bottle of champagne in her hand. Her dissertation review finally took place and, with both supervisors agreeing, her dissertation only needed a few minor edits, and it could then be submitted. Hence, her current situation, celebratory champagne in one hand and her phone in the other, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

Spontaneous celebrations for single adults were challenging. She’d texted John, but she knew full well that he had a date. ( _It’s not a date!_ He’d shrieked.) Her other friends either already had plans, had to work, or lived too far away.

When the idea of texting Harper zips to into her mind, she shudders, dropping the phone in her lap and dramatically letting her head hang backward over the back of the camping chair. 

She ignores the disgruntled look Ollie, who’s with her a few extra days due to his owners getting stranded in a blizzard in the middle of Montana, shoots her from his spot on the floor in the last sliver of evening sunlight beaming through the window. “Don’t judge me,” she warns him.

He plops his head back on the floor and goes back to snoozing.

As her vision starts to get a bit grainy when too much blood has rushed into her head, her thoughts come full circle back to Riley, and she sits back up, deciding to try to find out if Riley knew. But, like, stealthily. 

Abby could be a detective. _The audacity of you not to report back on Schroedinger’s hamster after all my efforts to distract you_ , she writes.

Riley’s response comes almost immediately.

 **Riley:** Schroedinger’s hamster?

Abby rolls her eyes. _Please don’t tell me you don’t know what Schroedinger’s Cat is._

 **Riley:** ohI know what it is

 **Riley:** but I had 100% forgotten about the butthole hamsters until this exact moment. Thank you for protecting me, brain and no thank you, Abby, for reminding me

 **Riley:** happy to report that there were no hamsters

 **Riley:** please tell me that our conversation inspired you to visit a drag bar on Valentine’s Day so that you could report back on your field research

Okay, Riley was making it relatively easy. That comment didn’t match with the assumption that she and Harper were still together, right?

 **Abby:** I’m sorry to say that, even though I was feeling super inspired, I fell asleep pretty much immediately. Didn’t even have sweet dreams of RuPaul’s Drag Race. :(

 **Riley:** tragic

Abby assumes another message will follow, considering Riley almost always sends, like, five short messages instead of one long one, but nothing ever does. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy.

 **Abby:** Maybe next year.

 **Riley:** dammit

 **Riley:** I typed another hilarious message after my last one but accidentally hit p instead of send

 **Riley:** now the moment is ruined

 **Riley:** fucking gloves

 **Riley:** anyway, yes, and by then we will both be doctors and we will research the shit out of that topic

Abby waits a bit, the typing indicator appearing and disappearing before another message comes about a minute later.

 **Riley:** and report back to each other on the findings

Abby raises a brow, briefly wondering why such a short message took so long to type.

 **Abby:** I’m sorry to say that my research is probably way less scientific than yours, but I will indeed commit to this process of data collection

 **Riley:** outstanding

 **Riley:** when will you actually be Dr. Holland btw?

Abby grins just thinking about it. She types her response with one hand as she takes the few last sips of her champagne. _Got confirmation today that it should be by the end of this semester, assuming I don’t have an epic failure of an oral_

Ollie barks, startling her and causing her to accidentally send the message without finishing. _Exam. Oral exam,_ she rushes to type, laughing at herself.

Riley doesn’t reply right away this time, and the empty moment leads Abby to realize that Ollie was probably barking at her because it was time for his evening walk. Her suspicions are confirmed as he happily bounds towards the door when she gets up to grab her coat and shoes. “I know, I know,” she mumbles to him, his wagging tail moving his entire body as she struggles to clip the leash to his collar.

She finally succeeds and jams her gloved hands in her pockets as they set off down the sidewalk. She feels her phone buzz under her hand as they round the corner of the block.

 **Riley:** Cannot imagine you being the type of person to have an epic failure of an oral

 **Riley:** Exam

A smile takes over Abby’s face, and she resists the urge to let out a loud laugh, taking quick note of the not-small number of people in the area likely heading to and from the same small park she and Ollie are, the result of which is what she’s sure is an absolutely ridiculous shit-eating grin.

“Hey!” she hears suddenly, leading her face to stiffen.

The problem with staying near the university was that that meant staying near where she and Harper lived. Harper, who was now standing right in front of her on the sidewalk, bending down to pet Ollie. “I was just thinking about you,” she continues, leading Abby to wish Harper were talking to Ollie.

“Hey,” Abby manages dumbly.

“Didn’t you have your review meeting today? How was it?” Harper asks excitedly as she stands back up.

“Oh!” Abby says, realization dawning on her. “Right, yeah, I told you about that. Uh, it was great! I’m going to submit it soon, and then I’ll be done.”

“That’s amazing!” Harper says, beaming as she pulls Abby into a hug. 

The hug catches Abby off guard, and her phone tumbles out of her hand and onto the ground.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” Harper says, quickly bending down to pick it up. Her face falls further when she catches a glance at the screen.

“It’s fine,” Abby dismisses, grabbing it back quickly. “This thing has survived way worse.”

“True,” Harper agrees with a soft laugh. 

“Yeah,” Abby says awkwardly.

“Was that my Riley?” Harper blurts out.

Abby’s eyes widen, her body jerking a little as Ollie suddenly pulls her. “Just a second,” she tells him before looking back at Harper. “Your Riley?”

Harper furrows her brow. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, you know what I mean, or yeah, it’s her?” Harper presses.

Abby sighs loudly. “Does it matter?”

Harper frowns. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

Their argument in Jane’s basement bedroom comes to Abby’s mind, Harper accusing Abby of acting out against her because of Riley. She suddenly feels defensive. “Nothing happened.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Harper mimics.

Abby shifts uncomfortably. “I better, uh, go. Ollie’s getting kind of impatient, and my hands are too cold to actually take them out of my pockets and reign him in.”

“You and your refusal to buy seasonally appropriate gloves,” Harper comments fondly. “Anyway, yeah, of course, go. I’ll...see you around.”

“See ya,” Abby says, shifting a few times, awkwardly, as they both seem to debate whether they should hug before she finally continues down the sidewalk with Ollie.

She shoves her phone in her pocket, acutely aware of Harper’s eyes still on her retreating form. She leaves it there until she rounds the next corner, then takes it out to reply to Riley while Ollie runs ahead on the now-unlocked retractable leash.

 _Sorry, just had a random run-in with Harper in which she referred to you as “her” Riley, which sure was something_ , she writes with a sideways grin.

So much for trying to figure out if Riley knew; no one would talk about a “random run-in” with their current partner. 

Riley’s response is immediate, and it’s the puke emoji followed by another flurry of messages in her usual style.

 **Riley:** first of all, unless she rocked up in a DeLorean and looked about 15, I haven’t been her anything in like almost 20 years

 **Riley:** second of all, how do you randomly run into someone in Pittsburgh? wtf?

 **Riley:** AND C...well, we’ll circle back to that question later

 **Abby:** I wanted to stay near CMU and we already lived near there. I didn’t exactly move far

 **Riley:** acceptable

 **Riley:** now onto C

 **Riley:** which I know should have been “third of all”

 **Riley:** how was it running into your ex for the first time?

 **Riley:** I feel like that’s always the worst

 **Riley:** I just assume that was the first time

Abby sighs, accepting that her stealthy detective task was...well, an epic failure. _How did you know she was my ex?_ She types grudgingly.

 **Riley:** I’m honestly insulted. I am a DOCTOR.

 **Riley:** it’s my job to piece together small pieces of potentially random information from unreliable people to make a diagnosis

 **Riley:** not saying you’re unreliable but anyway

 **Riley:** Tipper deleted your couple pic, which made it obvious because she wouldn’t dare spark discussion by deleting it without a significant reason. obviously, I follow her insta closely because it is THE source of gossip for our shithole town

 **Riley:** then you answered me immediately ON VALENTINE’S DAY, which confirmed my suspicions, because who does that when they’re having a romantic Hallmark Holiday evening?

 **Riley:** and finally, it would be peculiar for you to tell me you had a “random run-in” with your current girlfriend

Epic fail indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've crossed 10k words, woohoo!
> 
> I hope y'all don't mind the shorter chapters. I could make them longer, but I would probably only update every few days instead of every other day then.
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by vodka and Microsoft Teams birthday parties.

It’s been a few weeks since the “oral exam” incident, as Abby’s come to call it in her mind, and she and Riley have only texted a handful of times in the meantime. That by itself wouldn’t be all that strange, per se, considering the relatively short time they’ve known each other, but Abby’s feeling a little bit...weird about it.

“Hey,” Abby blurts out, breaking John’s concentration on what she assumes is an e-mail he’s typing.

“Hey,” he replies absentmindedly, barely slowing his typing. 

“Do you think it’s weird that I talked to Riley about Harper?”

John’s hands freeze, hovering in the air above his keyboard. “Riley as in your ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend?”

“Do we know another Riley?” Abby challenges with a roll of her eyes.

John scoffs as he closes his laptop. “No, I just had to make sure I was understanding correctly that you were indeed asking me if I thought talking about your ex-girlfriend to _her other ex-girlfriend_ might be, I dunno, strange.”

“So it’s weird,” Abby mutters.

“I mean, independently and objectively, sure.” He grabs his coffee mug, looking dejectedly at the empty bottom. “But I assume you didn’t just call her out of the blue and say, ‘Hey, Riley, do you have a few minutes to talk about our common ex, one Ms. Harper Caldwell?’”

Abby chuckles despite herself. “Text,” she clarifies.

John raises a brow. “Did you _text her_ and say, ‘Hey, Riley, do you have-’”

“No!” Abby interjects. “We were in the middle of texting anyway, and I vanished for a few minutes because I bumped into Harper, which I explained, and then Riley asked how it was to run into Harper. Then I got a little...word vomity.”

“Hard to imagine,” John says as if he’s whispering to someone on the floor next to him. “Okay, so, your actual concern is that Riley, whom you appeared to have already been having a friendly conversation with, asked you about Harper, and now you want to know if it’s weird that you talked to Riley about Harper? The Riley that you met and bonded with basically over your shared trauma inflicted by the aforementioned Harper?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Abby, please,” John says dismissively, standing up abruptly. “Another coffee?”

She nods distractedly, calling after him as he almost reaches the counter. “Is it weird or not?!”

* * *

John reassures her that it was not, in fact, weird. Nonetheless, she has a weird feeling gnawing away at her in her stomach, and she spends the afternoon trying to think of an excuse to text Riley to, eventually, evaluate the situation herself. Stealthily.

Which was a huge success last time. She settles for _hey_ , written just after nine P.M.

**Riley:** is for hoarses

**Riley:** because their throats hurt and they can’t say more

Abby furrows her brow and grins all at once, contemplating Riley’s dad joke. As she’s about to reply, Riley writes again.

**Riley:** oh my god I tried to turn “hey is for horses” into a version that works over text and it just doesn’t work

**Riley:** don’t judge me

**Riley:** I haven’t slept in like 2 days and spent the day with a bunch of children because of a bus crash

Upon reading that Riley hasn’t slept in two days, Abby feels guilty immediately. _Oh shit, that sounds awful. Sorry to bug you, get some sleep!_

She pads into the bathroom, deciding to brush her teeth and get to bed early and try to read a book for a change. And, while she’s thrilled she doesn’t have to go outside in below-freezing temperatures, she finds herself missing Ollie, who’d finally gone back to his own home the day before.

**Riley:** oh my god, no, please

**Riley:** I desperately need to talk to an adult about something other than bone fractures and parental consent documentation

Abby smirks and grips her toothbrush between her cheek and teeth. _Wow, no pressure. Those are my favorite topics of discussion,_ she replies.

**Riley:** please share with me your favorite work of art from any period with either of those two topics as a subject

Abby contemplates her response while she finishes brushing her teeth and is only mildly disappointed when it’s no longer needed.

**Riley:** on second thought, don’t

**Riley:** I wouldn’t even know a Rembrandt from a Van Gogh if you hit me over the head with them

**Riley:** but please don’t do that because canvas is a strong material and it may be difficult for me to work if I have whiplash

Abby finishes brushing her teeth before replying, tossing her phone onto the bed as she finishes up in the bathroom. After checking that the front door is locked and everything in the kitchen is turned off, she crawls into bed and finds that Riley has already written a few more times.

**Riley:** wow I’m sorry, I’m just rambling about nonsensical shit

**Riley:** you wrote me out of the blue and all you said was “hey,” which, for most people, means something is wrong

**Riley:** you okay?

Abby smiles fondly at the concern. _Oh, shit, all good, sorry. Now I feel bad that you haven’t slept in 2 days and I made you think something was wrong. And your rambling wasn’t nonsensical. It was funny_

**Riley:** oh thank god

**Riley:** I would hate to think that my humor was suffering as a result of my day job

**Riley:** it’s probably my best quality aside from my obsession with murder

Abby chuckles. _Is it your goal to bring up murder every time we talk? Should I be worried?_

**Riley:** in my defense, I’m about 95% sure I didn’t talk about murder at Oxwood

**Riley:** even if I do occasionally think about it when I tell the “Harper in High School” story

**Riley:** not that I would ever murder Harper or anyone from high school

**Riley:** hi NSA

**Riley:** also, driving to Pittsburgh just to murder you seems like a lot of work. there are plenty of people I could murder or pay to have murdered here

**Abby:** Wow, thank you. I feel really safe and I’m glad murdering me isn’t worth your effort. Gonna sleep soooo well later.

**Riley:** you’re welcome

Abby realizes after a few minutes that she finds it quite jarring when Riley only sends one message and feels the need to either fill the “silence” or formally end the conversation. _Anyway, I guess you weren’t totally wrong earlier. I didn’t write to you because something was really wrong, though, more like I was just feeling sort of...bad? Cause last time we talked for more than just a few minutes I pretty much just blabbed on about Harper for a while and so I just wanted to check if that was...weird._

Very stealthy.

**Riley:** wait what

**Riley:** when?

Then, a moment later:

**Riley:** ohhh do you mean that day you randomly ran into her and I was like, “OMG, how do you randomly run into someone in a big city, and also how was that?”

**Abby:** That’s the one

**Riley:** OMG, Abby please

**Riley:** I literally asked you about it??

**Riley:** also I think I would find it weirder if you’d just run into your ex-almost-fiancée for the first time and felt nothing about it

**Riley:** so no it wasn’t weird

Abby sighs in relief. _Oh, okay. Good. That was bugging me for a while._

Riley takes a while to reply again, and Abby starts to feel herself fighting off sleep. As she’s about to plug in her phone and pass out, Riley’s response comes in the form of a voice message.

That was new.

“Ugh, sorry to send you a voice note now. I hope you’re not, like, one of those people who can’t handle spontaneous verbal communication or whatever. At least I didn’t call. Obviously, I prefer texting, but I just got home, and I am freaking _starving_ and sleep-deprived, so time is of the essence. Anyway, sorry that I was sort of MIA for like two weeks after that conversation, but it wasn’t about you or Harper or any of that. I just really suck at talking to people when I’m tired, and being tired is pretty much a core personality trait of mine since I started my residenc-”

The message ends abruptly, and as Abby is about to record her own, another shorter message comes in.

“Fucking hell, I accidentally let go of record, and the message cut off. _My point was_ that I am tired, and I suck at talking to people, and it has nothing to do with you. Honestly,” Abby notes she says with a bit of a deep sigh, “you and I sorta had a connection from day one, you know? So I’m pretty sure you can tell me just about anything, and I won’t think it’s weird.”

And then, shortly after the voice message, again in text form:

**Riley:** but please don’t tell me if you’re into hamsters

**Riley:** I think you’re really cool and that would really ruin it

Abby is pretty sure she has the same shit-eating grin she was sporting just before running into Harper the other day. _I solemnly swear that I am not into hamsters. And thank you, it’s the same for me._ She waits a moment after sending her first message, then adds, _I also think you are pretty cool. So it’s the same for me...and I guess the fact that I still talk to you despite your clearly murderous intentions for someone is proof._

**Riley:** lucky me

**Riley:** I just ate Spaghetti-O’s straight from the can and a protein bar for dinner at 9:30pm

**Riley:** am I still cool?

**Abby:** You did that after working two days straight and helping a bunch of kids. I think that makes you the coolest. Also I think you probably could’ve won a speed-eating contest.

**Riley:** 🥳

**Riley:** I’m really sorry but I absolutely have to shower and sleep immediately or I’m going to turn into a gremlin

**Riley:** thank you for the funny, distracting, adult conversation

**Riley:** goodnight 😴

**Abby:** night!

Abby falls asleep feeling lighter than she has in weeks.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta, who penciled me into her busy schedule for the first time since chapter 4 (🤪), told me the way I write Abby's texts is sometimes confusing. So: I write them in italics when they're coupled with what she's thinking/feeling/doing. I write them with Abby: (like how all of Riley's texts are written) if they just stand alone.

Abby remembers reading, immediately after things with Harper ended, various theories on how long it takes to get over a breakup. Some said, “one month for each year of the relationship,” while others said, “half the relationship duration.”

As it stands, by Easter, Abby feels pretty confident in saying that she’s landed somewhere smack dab in the middle. Not that she really feels like going as far as to get on Tinder or Bumble or whatever else came onto the scene since she was last single, but the moments of random sadness have stopped. In fact, at the moment, her feelings are primarily summed up with the word _relief_.

Another holiday weekend with Harper’s family? No thanks.

She much prefers her current plans: a long weekend, with the university essentially closed on Friday and Monday, and a full pet sitting calendar including, but not limited to, Ollie spending the weekend at her apartment again. 

She could never tell the other animals, but he was definitely her favorite.

 _Guess who’s back_ 😍 she captions the photo she sends off to both Riley and John the moment Ollie’s owners leave after dropping him off. They reply simultaneously.

 **Riley:** 😍😍😍 

**John:** You get him and I got fish. The audacity.

 **Riley:** uh, is this a group chat?

 **John:** Sweet jesus, Abby, you really are a Luddite.

_John left the chat_

_Riley left the chat_

Abby fires off a quick apology to Riley, and, just as she’s about to text John, he calls her.

“Dare I ask to whom you just gave my phone number?” he whines.

“My hitman.”

“Abby, that’s not funny. As you know, I can dish it out, but I can’t take it when it comes to telestalking. Yes, that’s a word now, don’t question me.”

“Relax. I’m kidding.” She waits a moment to allow him to sigh in relief, then adds, “It was my drug dealer. He’s super into cocker spaniels. And I’m pretty sure it’s cyberstalking.”

“I hate you,” John comments petulantly before hanging up.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to texting him. _Don’t be such a baby. It was just Riley. But thanks for the vote of confidence by seemingly being genuinely concerned that I would have a hitman or drug dealer on speed dial!_

 **John:** It’s 2021. Nobody has speed dial anymore

 **Abby:** 🙄🙄🙄🙄

 **John:** As soon as I’m done being annoyed, we’re going to circle back to the fact that you’re still talking to your ex’s ex regularly.

 **Abby:** 🙄

* * *

She can hardly believe she’s saying it, but Abby is _in a good mood_. After her exchange with John, Abby finishes grading the last two student papers on her to-do list and decides to head out for a walk and enjoy the spring sunshine. With her grading finished, she has a solid four days of no plans (besides petcare) ahead of her. 

“Let’s go!” she says to Ollie playfully, patting her hands on her thighs and getting him excited immediately. “Yeah, we’re gonna go for a nice loooong walk today! Maybe you’ll get lucky, and we’ll see your girlfriend Princess!”

It’s not her place to judge how people name their pets, and Ollie seems delighted regardless, the ecstatic wagging of his short tail picking up even more speed the more Abby talks.

They set off out the door and down the street, Ollie trotting happily ahead of her. 

**Riley:** hey Tyra Barks

Abby can’t pretend to not be confused by Riley’s text, which arrives just as she and Ollie round the first corner. She puts her headphones on and decides that, rather than walking down the street with her eyes glued to her phone screen, she’ll just call Riley.

“Please don’t tell me you’re calling me just because you didn’t get my ‘Tyra Barks’ joke. I’m not sure I could handle that level of disappointment,” Riley says as soon as she answers.

“Hello to you, too,” Abby greets with a laugh. “And, actually, I was calling because I’m out for a walk with Ollie, and it’s easier to talk than it is to write. The last time I was walking Ollie on this route, and we were writing, I ran into Harper, so…”

“Yikes,” Riley comments glumly. “You could have just answered me later, you know.”

“I know,” Abby agrees quickly. “But I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Riley says brightly.

“I hope that’s okay,” Abby says tentatively.

“I can accept your spontaneous phone call as long as you pay the toll,” Riley offers.

“Ooh, sounds serious. What’s the price?”

“Adorable Ollie videos, duh.”

Abby laughs softly, a broad smile tugging at her cheeks. “I can afford that.”

“Good,” Riley says, pleased. “Which brings me back full circle to my original comment-slash-question: please tell me you got the Tyra Barks joke. I find your lack of clarification disturbing.”

Abby sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth. “Ah...busted,” she admits sheepishly.

“Abigail whatever-your-middle-name-is Holland!”

Abby chuckles. “It’s Elizabeth. I’m pretty sure that’s one of the most common middle names ever, but it was my mom’s name, so it’s nice.”

“Oh, geez, I can’t make fun of you now,” Riley comments solemnly.

Abby laughs again. “That was clearly my plan all along. Play the pity card and avoid torment,” she teases.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Riley gripes. “Anyway, Tyra Barks. Tyra Banks. Like America’s Next Top Model, because you’re Pittsburgh’s Next-

“Top Pet Sitter,” Abby interrupts, realization dawning on her. “You know, we’ve talked pretty much every day for like a month, and I think you’ve made that joke exactly once.”

“Good jokes are like running a long con, _Abigail_. Gotta pay them off at the right time.”

“Whatever you say, Riley whatever-your-middle-name-is Bennett.” 

“Ohhh, no no no,” Riley says tauntingly. “You’ll have to ply me with booze to get that one out of me.” 

“Why? Is your middle name, like, Gertrude or something?”

“Oh, God, no,” Riley says, sounding horrified.

“Brunhilda?”

“What?” Riley cackles. “No.”

“Pilot Inspektor?”

“No!” Riley counters, now laughing hysterically. “Stop, my abs are going to start hurting, and I hate exercise. But props for an actual pop culture reference.”

Abby is aghast. “How can a doctor hate exercise?”

“Yeah, I dunno, I just wanted to stop talking about my middle name.”

“You little…” she trails off, then grumbles. “Hold on a second, we just got here, and I need to get Ollie off his leash before he takes me for a joyride.”

Getting a very excited Ollie off the leash proves about as tricky as Abby expected once she spots Princess not far away. “Okay, take it easy. The sooner you chill out, the sooner you can go get your girl,” Abby coos at him. After a few short rounds of tug-of-war, she succeeds, and Ollie sprints away.

“Okay, sorry,” Abby breathes out. 

“Well, that was adorable,” Riley comments.

“Heh,” Abby laughs awkwardly, “he gets overexcited. Gotta calm him down, or he just wears himself out like a miniature, more adorable bronco.”

“You two are quite the adorable pair then.”

Abby feels her mouth open and close a few times before she’s able to respond. “Yeah, he’s the best.”

“Mhm,” Riley agrees idly. “So what are your big plans for this weekend besides outstanding petcare? I assume you have a long weekend like normal people.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope,” Riley complains, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “I’m just high enough on the food chain to not have to work the _entire_ weekend, but also low enough that I don’t really get a say in my holiday schedule. I’m off Saturday, on Friday and Sunday.”

“Ugh, bummer,” Abby commiserates. “One workday right in the middle? That’s just...mean. What about your parents?”

“Oh, they’re used to it by now,” Riley dismisses, and Abby can practically see the dismissive hand wave she’s sure accompanies it. “They’re actually in Florida. We knew for a while there was no chance I’d be off over Easter considering how lucky I got over Christmas.”

“Riiiight, true, you were around for a good few days there. Lucky me,”

“Lucky _me_ ,” Riley counters. “Couldn’t imagine having to miss White Elephant…” she mutters sarcastically. “Meeting you was also fine.”

“Ha ha ha,” Abby mocks. “Rude.”

“You know I’m kidding,” Riley says, this time more soothingly. “You might recall me saying how rarely I bother talking to people when I’m stressed and tired, so I think our current streak of, like, a month speaks for itself.”

“Lucky me again.” 

They’re both quiet for a moment, and Abby tries to ignore the odd sensation in her stomach until Riley breaks the silence. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

Abby feels like a brain fog is still in the process of clearing. “What?” Her tone does nothing to mask the brain fog.

“Are you okay? Do you have a medical emergency?”

“No, Dr. Bennett,” Abby counters with a laugh. “Sorry, I was just, uh...Ollie was doing something that looked dangerous,” she fibs. “Anyway, no plans for this weekend, which is exactly what I wanted. I’m so excited.”

“Nice.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, boy, where do I begin?” Riley begins, sarcasm dripping increasingly heavily from every word. “Working, sleeping, working, sleeping. Potentially sleeping at work. Occasional eating. Luckily, I’m not a big holiday person.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. That still sounds shitty, though.”

“It could be worse,” Riley says optimistically.

“Yeah. Someone could be trying to murder you,” Abby jokes.

“Now you’re speaking my language!” Riley says delightedly. Then, more evenly, “Anyway, I wanted to ask, would you-”

“Oh shit!” Abby exclaims suddenly, cutting her off. “Sorry, oh god, I’ll call you back,” she pants, abruptly ending the call as she rips her headphones from her ears and shoves everything in her pockets while sprinting towards Ollie.

Princess was, apparently, suddenly in a nasty mood and growling quite aggressively. When Abby finally reaches them, she sees it’s because Ollie seems to have taken her stick; or, at least, had the nerve to possess a nice stick when Princess did not.

Princess’s owner arrives at the same time. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry. She’s been _so_ possessive lately. She’s like a crackhound,” the woman apologizes as she scoops the dog up in her arms.

“No worries,” Abby dismisses, squatting down to clip Ollie’s leash on. “He’s a pretty chill little guy. He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t usually see you here,” the woman comments. “I’m Amber.”

“Abby,” she introduces herself with an awkward wave. “I don’t actually have a dog. I’m just, ah, petsitting. So I’m not here often. But I have to say, Princess is Ollie here’s number one crush, and I haven’t seen you before.”

“Ugh,” Amber groans. “I got Princess with my ex, so she usually comes here with him.”

“Gotcha. Well, I hope Princess gets over her...possessive phase.” Abby turns to go, an exhausted-looking Ollie hanging close to her leg. “See you around.”

“I hope so,” Amber replies...flirtatiously? “We’ll be here again tomorrow around this time. Maybe, uh, Princess will be in a better mood.”

“Cool, okay. See you...tomorrow, then, maybe. Say bye, Ollie.”

“Bye, Ollie,” Amber says in a voice that Abby assumes is meant to speak for Princess. “See you tomorrow, Abby.”

“Bye,” she mutters as she quickly turns to go, a suddenly energetic Ollie eagerly running ahead.

When they reach the exit of the park, she says to Ollie, “Yeah, I’m ready to go home, too.”

She may have been off the scene for a while, but she’s pretty sure she was just half-asked on a...doggy playdate?

She mulls it over as she and Ollie finish their short walk home (a walk made slightly longer because she’s just distracted enough to allow Ollie to stop and sniff everything he comes across). While she settles on noting that she’s not particularly interested, she also has to admit that it wasn’t the worst feeling ever.

Back in Abby’s apartment, Ollie runs straight for his water bowl as she kicks off her shoes, hangs her coat, and empties her pockets. By the time she’s done, he’s firmly planted on the couch.

She flops down next to him and tries to call Riley back, but she doesn’t pick up, so Abby settles on texting her. _Sorry about that, Ollie’s little friend started growling at him like crazy so I had to intervene. Pretty sure the other dog’s owner then proceeded to hit on me, which definitely wasn’t on my dog park bingo card. I guess maybe you’re asleep now cause I think you said your shifts start at 5 these days? And I’m sorry I interrupted you because it sounded like you were about to ask me something._ 😒 _Sleep well_ 😴

 **Riley:** not asleep

 **Riley:**...but that will happen in about 10 minutes. phone was already on silent

 **Riley:** no worries. Tyra Barks has to stay on top

 **Abby:** Always. What did you want to ask me?

 **Riley:** don’t worry about it

 **Abby:** Don’t make me ask you 37 times 🙄 Unless it was just a bad April Fool’s joke that I got lucky and ruined for you, in which case, you can keep it to yourself.

 **Riley:** fine okay that would be really annoying and hard to squeeze into the next 9 minutes

 **Riley:** also I fucking hate April Fool’s so I would never

 **Riley:** I wanted to ask if you would be interested in, like, watching a movie with me on Saturday? Or a show or whatever. Seeing as we’re both the only people who seem to be spending the weekend alone

 **Riley:** only if you don’t have other plans

Then, a moment later: 

**Riley:** or a date

Abby feels herself smile uncontrollably. _Definitely not_ , she sends off immediately.

 **Riley:** I’m trying really hard to use context clues but I seriously can’t tell if that was in response to “interested in,” “having other plans,” or “having a date”

Abby groans at herself. _I meant I don’t have other plans or a date. Sounds good under one condition_

 **Riley:** I’m not telling you my middle name

 **Abby:** No, Gertrude. You just have to be responsible for the technology part because I clearly can’t be trusted.

 **Riley:** IT’S NOT GERTRUDE

 **Riley:** and: deal

Abby lets out a breath she’s not sure how long she was holding. _Cool. Then...talk to you then. Night_

 **Riley:** planning on breaking our streak tomorrow? 

**Riley:** cool cool cool

 **Abby:** Shut up, you know that’s not what I meant. Maybe it’s just because I’m looking forward to it

 **Riley:** that’s better

 **Riley:** night

 **Abby:** Talk to you TOMORROW. Goodnight 😉

As Abby’s own evening comes to a close, she falls asleep scrolling through Riley’s Facebook, trying to figure out what the hell kind of movies she likes that aren’t murder documentaries. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Shit" is Abby's favorite swear word and you can't convince me otherwise. On a separate note, my goal is to finish this fic by Christmas. Godspeed, me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for the delay with this chapter. If you follow me on Twitter, you're probably wondering why I'm yelling about tortillas instead of updating, but it's because I had a bonkers work week leading up to the few weeks I have off now. I don't have writer's block or anything like that, so don't worry. Back to normal now :) Let's see if I manage my goal of finishing by Christmas...

Abby begins to question designating Ollie as her favorite when he wakes her up with his whining.

“Mrrrrph,” she grumbles into her pillow.

He runs closer to the bed and continues whining.

“You’re really rude. You know that?” 

Abby is absolutely one of those people who talks to animals.

A glance at her phone tells her that it’s already ten o’clock. She feels compelled to apologize to Ollie...but at _that_ moment, she decides she won’t be the person who apologizes to animals (unless she steps on their tails or paws, which is another guilt-ridden story entirely).

“Okay, okay,” she says, slowly getting out of bed. “You get an extra treat after breakfast for being patient.”

She pads into the bathroom and quickly goes through her morning routine, Ollie pacing around outside the bathroom. “I know,” she mutters to him as she speed-walks over to pull on jeans and a hoodie.

Just as she grabs her phone and headphones, she gets a notification text from a six-digit number.

 **555-999:** Minuteman Press: Your order is ready for pickup! Please visit our Shadyside location with your receipt between 8:30 AM and 5 PM, Monday-Friday. We look forward to seeing you!

Abby can hardly believe her eyes. She’d submitted her dissertation for printing on Tuesday, not feeling much of a sense of finality about it considering she was told it wouldn’t be ready until the following Monday. The high demand at the end of the semester generally meant long waiting times.

Abby doesn’t squeal. But, if she were the type to squeal, it definitely would have happened right then. 

As it stands, Ollie picks up on her glee from the not-a-squeal and starts a helicopter-style tail wag as he follows Abby’s absentminded movement to the front door. 

Abby digs an old, empty backpack out of the closet and throws one strap over her shoulder before clipping Ollie’s leash on. “You ready for a long walk?” 

She takes the continued helicopter tail as a yes.

The roughly thirty-minute walk to the printing shop (which will take more like forty to account for Ollie’s activities) is perfect for the beautiful, not-quite-spring morning. Usually, Abby would probably drive, but she wants to make sure Ollie gets in enough exercise. The walking route will also ensure she passes all but one of her other clients for the weekend along the way. 

She manages the three stops on the way to the print shop, deciding it’s better to do so on the way rather than later when she has a heavy backpack with her. The man at the print shop is horrified that she’s by herself for what he deems an absolutely monumental occasion and insists on taking a picture of her with the stack of bound copies of her dissertation. After awkwardly posing, she literally shoves the five books in her tattered old backpack and sends the photo off to John, Riley, and Harper - and checks no less than fifteen times that she hasn’t accidentally created a group chat. 

She _really_ doesn’t want to be responsible for putting Riley and Harper in the same group chat.

John and Harper send back messages of congratulations and pride before she even has time to situate her headphones again after walking out of the shop. As an afterthought, she sends it to the group chat she has with some of the other doctoral students before pocketing her phone and heading home. 

Shortly before Abby reaches her apartment, her phone rings. She’d shifted the backpack from shoulder to shoulder multiple times and had recently settled on carrying it, so she can only manage to answer it with her headphones. “Hello?” she pants, readjusting her grip on the bag as Ollie chooses that exact moment to tug at the end of the leash.

“How could you not tell me you finished your dissertation and had it printed?” the caller shrieks.

Abby grins. “Gertrude?”

“I hate you,” Riley deadpans.

“Then why are you calling me?”

Riley’s jovial tone returns. “Because I just came out of an appendectomy to a very casual text letting me know that you apparently managed to finish the most important work of your academic career?!” 

“Please tell me you were the one doing the appendectomy and not the one having the appendectomy,” Abby deflects.

Riley sighs. “I would sound way higher if I were the one who had the surgery, Abby.”

“I knew that.”

“Of course you did. You’re practically a doctor now,” Riley teases.

“Not yet,” Abby clarifies with an awkward laugh. “I didn’t think it was gonna be printed until Monday. Sorry I didn’t tell you. I dunno. It just...didn’t feel real until I had it in my hands, you know? It was just years of work, and now it’s just...over. It’s weird.”

“Well, over except for showing off a stellar performance at your oral,” Riley pauses dramatically, “exam.”

“Ah, that’s the easy part,” Abby dismisses. “I mean, uh, I’m comfortable with presentations. And public speaking. Uh, despite the way I’m talking literally right now,” she clarifies awkwardly.

“Right,” Riley says placatingly.

Abby can picture her sarcastic nod with squinted eyes perfectly. Which, on second thought, she’s not sure how she can do that considering she’s seen it maybe twice ever. 

“Anyway,” Riley continues, “how do you not have huge celebration plans this weekend? You’re literally done writing what is literally a book! And I’m just here asking you to watch movies with me on the internet!”

“Hey!” Abby says defensively. “I was looking forward to watching movies with you on the internet,” she finishes warmly. 

Abby’s own tone surprises her, and she finds herself wishing she could see Riley’s reaction. 

“Oh,” Riley finally says, her voice higher than usual. “Good,” she recovers. Then, more evenly, “But you should have told me! I would have, like, shipped you some champagne or something. Or made John bring you some, now that I have his number.”

Abby laughs. “He probably wishes he could. He got dragged into spending Easter with the family of a guy he thought was a...two-night stand? Weekend stand? I dunno. A fling.” 

“Men are weird,” Riley says dully. “Lesbians would just be living together by then.”

“True,” Abby cackles. 

“Ugh, I’m sorry, but I gotta go. There are, like, at least a million people in the ER today,” Riley complains, commotion in the background supporting her words.

“Oh, a million, huh?” Abby questions playfully. “Sounds serious.”

“It’s literally life or death, Abby,” Riley deadpans again. “Just kidding!” she follows up quickly, abruptly more cheerful again. “But I really do need to run. Congratulations again, Abby. I’m...really proud of you and proud to call you a...friend.”

Abby feels herself blushing. She’s currently lingering on her front steps, trying to finish up this phone call before going inside, where Ollie will surely go bonkers trying to get to his water bowl. “Thanks. And...thanks for calling. Go save some lives or whatever.”

“It’s a beautiful day to save lives,” Riley says with fake cheer. “Or whatever. I definitely will. Bye.”

“Bye.”

* * *

Abby isn’t willing to admit how much time she spends just taking photos of her stack of printed dissertations that afternoon. She’s proud, okay?

The afternoon slowly begins its transformation into evening, and Abby drags herself off the couch to head with Ollie to her last client for the day and then to Schenley Park for his evening walk.

It’s uneventful. So uneventful, in fact, that Abby is completely lost in her thoughts...which means she’s entirely caught off guard when someone calls her name just after she lets Ollie off his leash on the park.

“Hey, Abby!” the voice, muted through her headphones, calls again.

Amber.

“Uh, hey,” Abby greets back, fumbling with her headphones. “Fancy meeting you here,” she comments dumbly. 

“Total surprise,” Amber jokes brightly. “Almost like I didn’t tell you yesterday I was looking forward to seeing you here today.”

Abby gulps. “Yeah,” she replies, trying to focus her eyes literally anywhere except on Amber. Amber, who is objectively...attractive? Nice? Potentially just a nice _heterosexual_ person? Abby tells herself that her current discomfort is unnecessary and tries to drag herself back into a state of normalcy.

“Are you okay?” Amber asks, finishing her walk towards Abby and putting a light hand on her shoulder. “You look like you might pass out.”

“Oh, yeah. Fine. Just an...eventful day,” Abby responds, moving out from under Amber’s hand to drop onto the nearby bench. “I finished my Ph.D. thesis today, or at least I got the printed copies, and I think I’m just, like, overwhelmed,” she excuses.

“Ph.D.?!” Amber squawks. “Wow. You’re like... _smart_ smart.”

Abby laughs softly. “I try.” She sets Ollie’s retractable leash down in the open space next to her, hoping it will discourage Amber from getting too close.

“What did you study?” Amber asks as she drops onto the bench, leaving a good foot of space between the two of them.

“Art history.”

“Wow,” Amber replies, mouth hanging half-open.

“Are you into art?” Abby follows up, kicking herself for not allowing this conversation to die the death she wishes it would. 

“No,” Amber says honestly, gaze shifting to her shoes. “I mean, who doesn’t like art, right? It’s amazing what people can do in so many mediums. But I don’t know anything about it,” she admits.

“No judgment from me,” Abby comments easily, raising her hands in a surrender gesture. “That’s me with movies. Like, I watch them, but my rating is pretty much the opposite of every self-respecting critic’s every single time.”

Amber _giggles_. “I’m glad I’m not alone,” she comments, relieved. “I’m glad you came.”

Abby, thrown by the change of subject, nods mutely.

“I suck at this,” Amber mutters. “I’m so sorry if you thought I was hitting on you,” she blurts out quickly.

Abby jerks her head in Amber’s direction. “What?”

“Yesterday, when I was all, ‘I hope so’ about seeing you here today, I spent all night thinking that you probably thought I was some dog park creeper.”

“No…” Abby counters lamely.

“It’s okay,” Amber assures her with a laugh. “I’m...new to this. I mean, like, meeting randos in the park. But I wasn’t hitting on you.”

“Oh,” Abby squeaks out.

“Not that you’re not pretty!” Amber rushes to clarify. “It’s not that. It’s just, um...I mean, you totally are. But I just broke up with my boyfriend, the one you usually see Princess with, because I realized that I’m gay or bi or...something, and I just really need some gay friends,” she rambles, eyes suddenly widening. “You are gay, right?”

Abby erupts in laughter. “I’m sorry,” she manages between laughs, “that was just so cute and innocent.”

“Thanks,” Amber mutters into her hands, where her face is currently buried.

“And I am,” Abby interjects quickly. “Gay, I mean.”

Amber visibly relaxes. “Thank God. I’m not good at this gaydar thing yet.”

“I wish I could say it gets better, but it seems to be kind of an innate thing.”

“Shit,” Amber grumbles.

“You got me right, so I think that’s a good sign...although my friend John told me that I’m basically the most lesbian-looking lesbian ever, so there’s that,” she tries to reassure her.

They sit in the park for an hour, sharing coming out stories, laughing, and having to break up Ollie and Princess only twice. Finally, Ollie and Princess both trot over, flopping tiredly at their feet. 

“I think that’s the sign,” Abby comments.

“Yeah,” Amber agrees, a little sadly. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so,” Abby replies. “I have a date.”

As she notices Amber’s eyes widen as she grins at her, Abby wonders what the hell she just said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're also interested in yelling about tortillas, follow me on Twitter @ohniceshark


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pleased to report that I spent time writing this instead of yelling about tortillas this time

Abby wakes up on Saturday feeling like she has a hangover. Which, considering she didn’t have a single drop of alcohol the night before, is really frustrating.

She and Amber parted ways at the park shortly after Abby’s comment about having a date the next day, but not before exchanging phone numbers and friending each other on Facebook. On and off Saturday morning, Abby contemplates texting her, desperate to talk through her internal panic (she admits after two hours that it is indeed a mild internal panic) with _someone_. John and Harper were not options; she’d already tried calling John, and she couldn’t speak to Harper about this for, well, for obvious reasons. They were friendly, but this was a step way too far. What would she even say? “Hey, Harper, I know you’re dating again, but what would you say if I told you I accidentally realized I secretly, apparently, wish for a date with Riley? Yes, your ex Riley.”

Why the fuck had she said she had a date?

She groans, rolling over to check her phone. It’s just after nine, and Ollie is still snoring on his bed a few feet away. 

Abby throws her hands over her face, quietly grumbling into them in an attempt to release some tension without waking the dog. She drops her hands to her sides and onto the mattress with force.

After a few minutes, she manages to convince herself that she’d been so focused on diverting what she thought were Amber’s romantic attentions that the lie about having a date had simply slipped out on instinct.

The lie works until five in the afternoon when Riley texts her.

 **Riley:** we still on or did dog park girl make you a better offer?

Abby’s stomach ties itself in a not. _Definitely not_ , she replies.

 **Riley:** okay, you know I am excellent with context clues

 **Riley:** but you’ve given me none, so is that “definitely not on” or “definitely not a better offer from dog park girl”

Abby smirks, unable to resist the opportunity. _Definitely not on. Sorry, dog park girl and I got married yesterday and we’re on our honeymoon already._

 **Riley:** that’s cool

 **Riley:** would you like a U-Haul gift card as a wedding gift?

 **Abby:** Sounds incredible. Could you send us an e-card? We’re super eager to get all settled into my studio apartment together.

 **Riley:** cozy

Abby swallows thickly. The previous day’s reference to her and Riley’s plans as a date is still tugging at the back of her mind and compelling her to change the situation quickly. _Obviously, I’m joking. My only plans for this entire weekend have been with pets and you._ 😉

Abby has never agonized over an emoji for so long in her entire life.

She also doesn’t do crushes and feels like a puppy trying to climb up the stairs for the first time. She does find it weird that she’s nearly thirty and has no real experience with _crushing_ , per se, but a recent night of drinks with John recently brought two explanations to light.

First of all, Abby notices, all of her previous relationships had immediately been romantic. Even Harper, her most serious relationship, started as a romance - they were never “just friends” first. Harper asked her on a date the night they met. She’s never even had unrequited feelings for crying out loud (cheating exes notwithstanding).

The second reason, which John was _so kind_ to point out, is that Abby is, apparently, a “useless lesbian.” Whatever that means.

All this to say: Abby has literally never had a crush on a friend, or at least not one that she was a) consciously aware of, or b) on a friend who actually also liked women. But with the combination of being totally put off by originally thinking Amber was hitting on her and the “I have a date tomorrow” slip-up, Abby feels thirty going on sixteen.

Abby forces herself to stop thinking about it.

 **Abby:** Dog park girl’s name is Amber, btw.

She has no idea why she said that. _Not that it matters because we are definitely not married_ , she adds hastily in another message.

She really is useless.

To distract herself from...herself, Abby throws on shoes and a hoodie and takes Ollie out for his evening stroll. 

Riley calls a short time after. “Sorry,” she excuses as soon as Abby picks up. “I didn’t wanna interrupt your wedding recap, but one of the other residents stopped me on my way out, and we were debating the schedule.”

Abby shakes her head even though no one is even around to see her. “Wait, what? I thought you were off today.”

“Don’t even get me started,” Riley grumbles. “I’ll tell you about it later. And, by the way, we would one hundred percent be going drinking tonight if we were in the same place because I _need_ it like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Without a doubt,” Abby agrees readily. “That would be amazing.”

“Don’t tempt me, or I’ll spontaneously hop a plane,” Riley jokes, the sounds of her getting into her car and shutting the door filling the space when she finishes speaking.

“I wish,” Abby mutters.

“Yeah,” Riley says, sounding almost _wistful_. “Anyway,” she says, voice completely normal again, throwing Abby off slightly, “I’m in my car, and I gotta drive home now and then shower because hospitals are literal Petrie dishes, but then I’m all yours. What are we watching?”

Abby had forgotten to finalize that small detail. “It’s...a surprise,” she fibs.

“I’m going to pretend I believe you and instead just say: please download Discord on your computer.”

“Discord? What is that?”

Riley clears her throat dramatically for effect. “Didn’t we agree that I’m the technology party planner here?”

“We did,” Abby agrees through a laugh.

“Great! Then you get to downloading, and I’ll get to driving.”

“Copy that.” Abby cringes at herself. _Hard_.

“Roger. Over and out,” Riley says incredibly seriously.

Abby scoffs. “You’re mocking me.”

“I tease because I care. Okay byeeeee,” Riley singsongs as her car roars to life and the radio turns on.

“Later.”

* * *

Abby downloads Discord, but she has no idea what she’s doing. She also still has no idea which movie they’re watching even by the time Riley has:

Driven home

Showered

Gotten dressed

Called Abby again

Walked her through actually setting up Discord

She really hopes this wasn’t supposed to be a date because it would definitely be her most embarrassing first date ever.

“You made it!” Riley says gleefully when their video call finally starts just after seven.

“A million hours later,” Abby grumbles as she disconnects their phone call and tosses her phone to the side.

“Better late than never. Baby’s first Discord call,” she mocks in a baby voice.

“Ha ha ha,” Abby says with a big eye roll, feeling grateful Riley can actually see it for once. “Is this a thing? Like is this a program that normal people use, or is this some weird medical thing?”

Riley’s eyes narrow, pushed together by her scrunched up brow and puckered lips. “I feel like you think this has something to do with, like, umbilical cords?” she asks without waiting for an answer. “It doesn’t. And yes, it’s a thing normal people use. I dunno, I guess it’s mostly gamers or whatever.”

“Gamers?” Abby questions incredulously. “I didn’t take you for someone who plays video games. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!”

“I absolutely don’t,” Riley refutes quickly, “but some of the coworkers I actually like do. One day, we had a super shitty shift together, and we all went home right after work. Then we regretted not going drinking about it, but we were too lazy to actually leave our houses again, so we just...got drunk on Discord and streamed random Youtube videos for each other.”

“Gotcha,” Abby acknowledges, not knowing what else to say. “It’s really good to see you,” she blurts out. 

The lighting isn’t amazing, but she thinks there’s maybe a chance Riley blushes. “Likewise. I can’t believe it’s been, like, four months since I was stealing your nasty spiced alcohol at the _best_ Christmas party ever.”

Abby chuckles. “Here we are again, celebrating another one of Jesus’s monumental occasions.”

“Yikes,” Riley remarks. “I’m not up on my biblical calendar, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say already that I hope it won’t take us until next Christmas again.”

“Let’s see how this goes, and I’ll get back to you,” Abby jokes confidently.

She does not _feel_ confident.

“Ohh, okay. Challenge accepted. But the ball’s in your court, madam,” Riley challenges back.

“What does that mean?”

“I seem to recall you mentioning a surprise you had planned concerning viewing material?”

Abby gulps. “Ah, that,” she begins, looking around the room and pretending to adjust her laptop to buy time. “That...wasn’t true,” she admits with a laugh. “I’m so sorry, I am so bad with movies, I have, like, _the_ worst taste in movies. And it’s funny that this comes up because I literally just told Amber this yesterday.”

“Ohh, right, your dog park wife!” Riley taunts. “Always on your mind, huh?”

Abby rolls her eyes yet again and slumps back against the couch. “For sure not. Like, she’s a total baby gay or baby bi or whatever trying to recruit gay friends. Sad to report that she wasn’t hitting on me after all.”

“Hard to believe,” Riley replies quietly but immediately, following quickly with, “but let’s not change the subject.”

“Right,” Abby agrees, clearing her throat. “I’m gonna see if a stroke of genius hits me. Didn’t you want to tell me about why you wound up at work today?”

After a heavy sigh and a few swear words, Riley launches into a dramatic retelling of her coworker’s tearful overnight call and the shenanigans that led to her, in fact, having to work Saturday instead of Sunday.

They never get around to watching a movie or even discussing the topic of movies again. After Riley’s story, they start to exchange on stupid coworkers, which leads to the subject of group projects in college, then college shenanigans, then exes, and on and on. They each have a few beers, and Abby feels warm all over.

“How are you even awake right now?” Abby questions mellowly, noting it’s already nearly midnight.

“Constant caffeine and adrenaline keep my sleep requirements pretty minimal,” she says, but the sentence is punctuated by a yawn.

Abby looks at her with pity. “I feel like I accidentally willed that yawn into existence, and I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Riley counters, the tail end of the yawn tinging her voice with just a hint of sleepiness. 

“You’re adorable,” Abby comments, feeling her eyes widen before she gets them under control again quickly. “I mean, you don’t have to pretend to not be tired.”

“Thank you, I know I am,” Riley responds, flipping her hair and feigning arrogance. “Of course I’m a little tired, I’ve been awake for, like, twenty hours, and I’m relaxed instead of running around an ER, so my body’s all, ‘sleep, bitch!’”

“You can, of course. If you want!” Abby offers.

“I don’t,” Riley interjects. “Want to, I mean.”

Abby downs the last sip of her beer. “Okay. But I can’t promise that I won’t take screenshots if you fall asleep in front of the camera.”

Riley quirks a brow sharply. “Do you even know how to take screenshots?”

“Hey!” Abby whines. “I’m not a total Luddite! I’m just not a total tech nerd, either.”

“Do you still use print-screen and paste into Paint?”

Abby can sense that “yes” is definitely the wrong answer in any case, so she feels fortunate to have a different defense. “Of course not. I have a Mac. It doesn’t have a print-screen key.”

“Saved by the keyboard,” Riley jokes before yawning again.

“Okay, come on. As much as I am enjoying talking to you, it would just be sad to watch you pass out suddenly.”

“Ugh, fine. Being caring is boring, but I appreciate you.” Despite her complaining, Riley’s voice is soft when she says it.

“That’s me, Abby ‘Boring’ Holland.” Abby pauses, feeling like a lightbulb has turned on above her head. “Wait a second. I believe you still owe me your middle name.”

“Ohh no, no, no,” Riley argues. “I never agreed to that.”

“Oh, come on! It can’t be worse than Gertrude. I’m gonna keep calling you Gertrude if you don’t tell me.”

“Boy, would you look at the time,” Riley deflects, pretending to look off in the distance at, presumably, a clock. “I’m afraid I’m a few drinks short of a middle-name revelation, and I’m just _so_ tired, you know? Saving lives all day is really exhausting.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Abby dismisses. “Fine.”

“Sorry,” Riley says playfully. “But in all seriousness...I honestly don’t want to go.” She doesn’t make (virtual) eye contact when she says it.

Abby finds herself looking down at her hands. “Yeah. This was...fun.”

“For sure,” Riley agrees readily. “You know, um...since I’m spontaneously off tomorrow, I don’t have plans. If you feel like celebrating another Jesus event with me on the actual day, I’m free as a bird.”

Abby feels the now-familiar _knot_ return to her stomach. “Sounds good,” she says, and she’s sure her voice nearly squeaks.

“Cool.” Riley pauses, seeming to be looking for words. “Then...good night.”

“Good night,” Abby echoes.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Abby releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when the video cuts off. She pries herself off the couch and gets ready for bed.

Once she’s under the covers, she realizes she hasn’t looked at her phone in hours, to the point that she forgot it on the couch entirely. She drags herself out of bed and plods over to the couch to get it. It’s mostly texts from John, who’s seemed to grow increasingly concerned with each message, casually asking Abby if she’s dead by the last one.

She rolls her eyes but grins. _Can’t your tracking check my pulse yet? I’m fine, just had plans tonight. Glad the weekend is going well. Night._

She also sees a single text from Amber.

 **Amber:** How was your date??? Let me live vicariously!!

Abby genuinely has no idea how to even begin answering that. _I’ll have to get back to you on that tomorrow. Night._

 **Amber:** Sounds promising 😏

Abby snorts, realizing how Amber managed to interpret what she said but not feeling compelled to correct her. 

Just when she plans to plug in her phone and put it down for the night, she gets another text.

 **Riley:** I had a really horrible day that I couldn’t even bring myself to tell you all the details of, but you made that the best night I’ve had since...well, your incredible karaoke performance at The Oxwood. You’re a good one, Abby Boring Holland.

The knot in Abby’s stomach starts to feel oddly rhythmic. _Likewise, Gertrude. I haven’t laughed like that in a million years. Sorry that I couldn’t find a movie, but I hope I made it worth your time anyway._

 **Riley:** so not worth my time that I asked you to waste some more of my time tomorrow

Abby grins like a fool before biting her lip to regain a sense of control. _I’ll do my best to make you happy you invested a spontaneous day off in me._

 **Riley:** I’m pretty sure you could read the phone book aloud and I’d still be there and give you a 10 on one of those “how likely would you be to recommend us” surveys. Goodnight 😴

Abby thinks about joking that she doesn’t think she could find a phone book if she tried but settles on a simple _Goodnight_ instead.

Just before she falls asleep, she realizes that a rhythmic knot in one’s stomach is more commonly known as “butterflies.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve Eve (AO3 says it's already the 24th, but it's just after 11 pm on the 23rd here). Remember when I said I wanted to finish this by Christmas? LOL. Let's say New Year's.

They didn’t manage to talk on Easter.

Much to their mutual chagrin, Riley’s coworker had a major screw-up when submitting the scheduling requests for their swapped shifts. The result: Riley getting a frantic phone call from the nurse’s station just before six in the morning asking why she was so late. By the time she’d scrambled to the hospital, her coworker had already managed to clarify the situation, but it was too late: there had been an early-morning bus accident downtown, and the ER was swamped, so she wound up working the entire day.

Abby passes Amber so briefly in the park during Ollie’s morning walk that they only manage a brief hello before Amber has to rush off for brunch with her parents.

And so, Easter goes by just like any other day, with Abby closing off the weekend of pet sitting and saying goodbye to Ollie until Memorial Day.

On Monday, Abby lugs the bound copies of her dissertation to the university and officially submits her doctoral thesis.

This time, Riley actually does send her a bottle of champagne.

* * *

The bliss of submitting her dissertation is short-lived. 

The next weeks grow increasingly intense, each day dedicated to a different aspect of preparing the upcoming defense of her doctoral thesis. Theoretically, Abby should know her work inside and out, considering she wrote it herself. Nonetheless, there are parts of her work that she hasn’t thought about in-depth for more than a year that require a lot of review.

While she’s preparing her presentation and notes to act as support for follow-up questions, the semester is simultaneously winding down for her students, which also means additional office hours as well as grading papers.

Through it all, Riley is there. Abby never manages to work up the nerve to clarify if their first movie-watching plans were actually intended to be a date. Still, their video calls have become increasingly common and completely spontaneous.

That being said, Abby grows more and more confused about what exactly it is that they’re doing. 

One night, having had enough of staring at her hundred-times-proofread presentation in PowerPoint, she opens a new file and creates two slides.

1: We are flirting

2: I am delusional

Before she can start actually making lists, she’s interrupted by Riley’s video calling her in WhatsApp.

That had to be a sign, right?

“Hey,” Abby greets with as much energy as she can muster.

“Don’t sound so excited,” Riley says dully, frowning. “Comparing dick sizes of the statues of Ancient Greece and Rome for the millionth time got you down?”

Abby snort-laughs. “Ass. You know I’m writing about-”

“The contribution of graphic propaganda to extremist culture in war-era Western Europe of the twentieth century? Rings a bell,” Riley interrupts. “It was a joke. You remember those, right?”

Abby snorts again. “I’ll remember them better when this defense is over in,” she pauses, looking at the clock, “three days, 18 hours, and thirty-one minutes.”

“Who’s counting, right?” 

Abby puts the phone down against her laptop screen and points two thumbs at herself. “This guy.”

“Come on, Abs. You got this,” Riley says gently. “As a doctor, I can officially confirm that you are totally doctor material.”

Abby laughs softly and drops her head. “Thanks. I’m just...so over this,” she says with a sigh, softly shaking her head. “Anyway, how are you? How was your day?”

“I’m calling you from my apartment, in my comfy clothes, a mere twenty-nine minutes after my shift ended. Feel free to applaud my leaving punctually.”

Riley’s earnest delivery sends Abby into a fit of laughter. “Fair point,” she manages between laughs. “I take it you had a hamster-free day?”

Riley rolls her eyes, letting her head move against the back of the couch simultaneously. “You’re never going to get over the hamsters, are you?” 

“Hey, you did it to yourself,” Abby defends.

“I did,” Riley admits begrudgingly. “Anyway, yes. It was a surprisingly quiet day, which has me fearful for the next three days,” she groans. “Those things always go in waves.”

Abby frowns, worried. “Why are you working so many days in a row, anyway? Isn’t that, like 8 days in a row or something?”

“Ach, yeah,” Riley dismisses with a wave of her hand. “I had to switch with Sarah _again_ because of god-knows-what. But you know how I feel about being owed favors.”

“Favors now are murders later,” Abby says with air quotes.

“Just kidding, NSA!” Riley clarifies sarcastically. “Anyway...I didn’t wanna interrupt, I just wanted to...uh, say hi. Because that’s a thing now.”

“Thanks,” Abby says quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m just...so majorly stressed right now, I’m like, no fun to talk to.”

Riley’s face softens even more. “That is one hundred percent _never_ true.”

“If you say so.”

“Trust me, I’m a doctor,” Riley says very professionally. Then, more softly, “and soon, you will be, too. Now, get back to studying.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Abby replies obediently. “I’ll text you later, okay? You might be asleep, but I’ll write you when I’m done for the night anyway.”

“Sounds good.”

“Sorry,” Abby mutters again.

“Abby, stop it,” Riley commands. “I don’t mean this to pressure you, but you have what’s probably the most important exam of your life in a few days. I’d be worried if you _weren’t_ taking it seriously.”

“That’s true,” Abby admits quietly.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you for the record.”

Abby feels that rhythmic knot in her stomach return in force. “Yeah. I miss you, too,” she admits. “It’s weird not talking to you, like, every single day for...way longer than this conversation.”

“Yeah,” Riley agrees.

They sit quietly for a moment, neither looking away from the other before Riley speaks again. “Okay, you get back to your statue dicks. I’m gonna go binge-watch Dr. Pimple Popper’s TikTok until the app plays me like five of those ‘take a break from scrolling’ videos.”

“Gross,” Abby laughs. 

“Right? It’s amazing,” Riley agrees, completely serious. “Try not to stress too much, Abs. You’ve done your best.”

“Yeah, I know. It helps to have you in my corner.”

“I’ll be your biggest cheerleader. Well, me and John. And probably Ollie.”

Abby laughs. “You know he’s not my dog, right?”

“Ugh, yes,” Riley groans. “And it’s a damn shame. Now go!”

“Okay, okay,” Abby acquiesces. “Go watch your...weird TikTok videos.”

“Oh, I will,” Riley says enthusiastically. “Bye,” she says with a little wave.

“Bye.”

* * *

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday fly by in a similar fashion: wake up, study, migrate to the office for a few meetings, study in the office, migrate home, study further, talk to Riley, study some more, sleep. Occasional eating is peppered in when Abby remembers to do so or John, Harper (because she knows how Abby is when she’s stressed and “just because we’re broken up doesn’t mean I don’t care and I’m _worried_!”), or Riley yells at her.

At her dissertation defense, only faculty members, fellow doctoral students, and invited guests of the candidate are allowed in the room. For Abby, that means the room is filled with her three supervisors, the majority of her fellow candidates, and John by the time the door closes and she begins introducing her first slide.

At that moment, she yearns to have her parents there like most of her fellow candidates had at theirs. She focuses on John and takes a deep, steadying breath as he provides her with an easy smile and a hand gesture encouraging her to decompress and relax.

The ninety minutes planned for the defense are, in hindsight, a total blur. Abby can remember a general sense of “that went well,” but almost nothing specific. But it doesn’t matter: when she finishes her presentation and the Q&A round, the supervisors clear the room to confer. Abby is called back in alone. She’s given the same result that is shared with the rest of the attendees soon after: her dissertation has been successfully defended, summa cum laude.

She’s so relieved she has to excuse herself to the bathroom to cry for a few minutes before the group moves to her supervisor’s office for a toast. 

After two glasses of champagne with the group, people begin to scatter to round out their workdays, and Abby and John head out.

“You did it!” he cries out when they’re safely out on the street and out of earshot from the others, throwing his arms around her.

She lets herself sink into his hug. “I can’t believe it,” she says into his shoulder.

“Your parents would be really proud, Abby,” he says, softly and earnestly, rubbing her back.

She feels her throat catch, and she lets the tears come out. “I know,” she manages to say.

“Come on,” he says gently, pulling out of their hug and wrapping his hand under her arm to grab her elbow. “I, like a dumbass, had your flowers sent to your apartment. Let’s go put them in water, and then we’re going to get drunk as hell because thank GOD your defense was on a Friday!”

Abby chuckles. “Why didn’t you send them to my office?”

John looks affronted. “I already called myself a dumbass. What more do you want from me?”

“Fine, fine,” Abby acquiesces, setting off in the direction of her apartment.

They make the short walk back to her place, chatting idly about the defense and the bits and pieces of it that Abby can manage to recall clearly. Of course, John contradicts everything she says that’s even remotely negative, reassuring her that she did a fantastic job and that her final grade only confirms it. 

When they reach her apartment, Abby looks at the front steps of the building and groans. “There’s nothing there!”

“I’m sure one of your neighbors took them, then. Go check your mailbox,” he encourages. “Anyway, I have to pee, so we’re going in no matter what.”

“You have the bladder of a small child,” she complains.

“I never claimed otherwise,” he retorts. 

They make their way inside, Abby unlocking the door for an antsy John to already go in and use the bathroom while she checks the mailbox. 

Abby closes the empty mailbox with an eye roll and starts complaining as soon as she puts her hand on the doorknob of her apartment, calling out to John. “There’s nothing in my mailbox, dude. Are you sure you sent them to to the right-”

Abby is cut off by the sight of Riley, in the flesh, standing at her kitchen table - a bottle of champagne, balloons, and a banner surrounding her. “Congratulations,” Riley says tentatively.

Abby feels like she might pass out. “What-” she begins, looking around, noticing John re-emerge from the bathroom. “How…”

Riley leans a hand on the table. “Remember when you accidentally put John and me in a group chat?”

“I certainly do,” John comments. 

“I kept John’s number, which was _super_ handy when I decided to surprise you, and he happened to have a key to your apartment.”

John looks half-sheepish. “I just assumed that since you were texting her about your favorite client that she was your friend and not a serial killer,” he claims. “I’ll give you two a minute and just...wait outside,” he says, moving towards the front door. “But we’re still going drinking!”

“Thanks,” Abby says, still overwhelmed by the situation. 

She redirects her attention to Riley, and they look at each other quietly as the front door clicks closed.

“Hi,” Abby says.

“Hi,” Riley mimics. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you BELIEVE this fic is over 20k words now? Wild


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My alter ego emerged last night and I wrote 4700 words, so the next chapter is already written and coming tomorrow.

It’s sensory overload.

Abby suddenly feels acutely aware of everything and nothing all at once. The physical tiredness all over her body, the result of too little sleep and too much time parked in front of her laptop; the muted sounds of John’s voice traveling through the wall as he starts a phone call in front of the building; the screeching sound of a chair shifting slightly on the floor as Riley moves her hand to the back of it and off the table.

Abby can’t process any of it and looks at Riley like she’s a mirage. At that moment, you could tell her that her feet had been bolted to the floor and she’d believe you.

Riley’s voice breaks into the white noise. “Is this okay? That I’m here?” she ventures.

It’s like Abby used up her entire quota of spontaneous speech during her defense. Lacking words, she elects to take a different path of action and takes a few quick, long steps to close the gap between them. She throws her arms immediately around Riley, pulling her into a tight hug.

Riley immediately reciprocates. “Is that a yes?”

That seems to be enough to snap Abby out of it. “Oh, God,” she begins, still hugging Riley tightly. She squeezes her once more before stepping back slightly, leaving her hands just above Riley’s elbows. “Yes! _So_ definitely yes.”

“Oh, good,” Riley says with relief. “You had me worried there for a second.”

“Yeah,” Abby begins, taking another step back and moving her left hand to drag nervously through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, hoping it comes across as genuinely as she means it. “Today has just been _a lot_. Emotional overload, you know,” she clarifies, punctuating her explanation with a single, short laugh. She paces into the kitchen area of the open space.

“Was one of your parents Canadian?” Riley asks randomly.

“What?”

“The apologizing,” Riley begins with a soft smile, slowly moving towards the kitchen, “it’s very Canadian. You have nothing to apologize for.” Riley reaches Abby just as she finishes speaking and gently puts her hand on Abby’s shoulder, rubbing in a short line up and down.

“Sor-... I mean, thank you.”

“And besides,” Riley says, her tone now more sure and energetic as she moves back around to the table once more, “I had a feeling today would be _a lot_ for you. It was similar for me when I finished med school.” 

Riley moves back into the kitchen, where Abby is leaning against the counter, with flowers in her hand. “John wasn’t totally lying about the flowers, by the way. It’s just that I brought them here and not a delivery person.”

Riley _winks,_ and Abby is ready for the countertop and/or the floor to simply swallow her whole.

“I took the liberty of putting them in water since you had a vase in plain sight. Obviously, I wouldn’t go rummaging through all your cupboards or anything,” Riley admits as she holds out the vase.

Abby gingerly grabs the flowers and admires them, turning the vase around in her slightly shaking hands before gently setting it on the counter behind her. When she turns back to face Riley, and the flowers are no longer in her face, she notices just how close the other woman is standing. “Good call with the lilies,” Abby says quickly, voice threatening to break. “They’re my favorite.”

“Lucky me,” Riley comments, not breaking eye contact.

“Did I tell you that?” Abby wonders aloud.

“No,” Riley admits with a breathy laugh. “Honestly, I suck at flowers. I kind of...made a guess. You know that movie Imagine Me and You?”

“Of course. ‘I dare you to love me,’” Abby quotes.

Riley’s bottom lip vanishes between her teeth. “Exactly,” she half-whispers.

Abby’s unable to wrap her mind around the situation at hand because John’s shrill complaining comes suddenly through the walls. “Can we go drink now?!”

“Seems we’re being summoned,” Riley says with a flick of her eyes towards the front door.

“So it seems,” Abby agrees.

“Ready?” Riley asks as she begins to step towards the door.

“Wait,” Abby blurts out, hand moving quickly to Riley’s wrist to pull her back into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she says into Riley’s hair.

Riley is caught off guard but hugs back after only a moment, left hand finding its way to the back of Abby’s head. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

They separate what feels like reluctantly.

Abby moves away from the front door and towards the bathroom. “I’m just gonna, uh, go to the bathroom real quick before we go. I don’t know where we’re going, but John’s taste in drinking establishments can be questionable when it comes to...women’s facilities.”

She forces herself to get in and out quickly, rather than looking at herself in the mirror to try to sort out her thoughts like she wants to, because she neither wants to hear John start shouting again nor can she stomach the idea of Riley thinking she’s in there feeling ill.

“It’s all yours if you wanna go, too,” Abby offers when she emerges.

“I’m good,” Riley responds, relaxed. “I went right before you came. Sorry that I had to, like, use your bathroom without you even knowing I was here, but, ah, nerves, you know.”

“Nerves?” 

Abby meant to say that only in her head.

“Oh,” Riley stammers. “You know. Because I didn’t know how the defense was, if you’d be happy with the grade…” she trails off, hands clasped and fiddling in front of her.

“Oh, of course,” Abby dismisses. “You ready?”

Riley beams. “Let’s go celebrate Doctor Holland.”

* * *

“Oh, come on, that is so not what happened!” 

“Abby,” John counters in a way that he probably thinks is sympathetic, “that is absolutely, one hundred percent what happened.”

“Whatever,” Abby dismisses, pulling her pint glass to her lips for the final sip of her beer. “No one would ever believe that you were my boyfriend, and that is absolutely not how we met.”

“Tipper believed it,” John says smugly into his martini glass.

“Okay!” Abby says energetically, attempting to change the subject and bring Riley, who’s sitting next to her, quietly but amused, back into the conversation. “Next round?”

“Yes!” Riley agrees enthusiastically. “But there’s not a chance in hell you’re buying. Scooch,” she commands, gesturing at Abby to move over.

“Fine,” Abby relents, having already lost this battle multiple times throughout the late afternoon and evening. 

Riley moves out of the booth and stands at the end of the table. “Another of the same?” she asks, looking at each of them.

“Yup!” Abby and John reply in unison, sending Riley on her way to the bar.

“Abby, my darling best friend, my lesbian soulmate,” John begins with faux adoration.

“Yes, John, my gay-man better half?” she mimics.

“What is happening here?”

Abby thinks maybe she’s just a little tipsy, but she feels genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

John narrows his eyes at her. “What do I _mean_?! An insanely attractive _doctor_ with incredible eyeliner and blazers just traveled hundreds of miles to _surprise you_ for the weekend, and you want to know what I _mean_?!” he practically shrieks, pitch growing higher with each word he says.

“Keep your voice down!” Abby hisses, glancing at the bar where Riley remains unaware. “Yes, I want to know what you mean.”

“That woman is completely in love with you!” John hiss-whispers, punctuating each word with a soft slap of his hands on the table.

“No, she’s not,” Abby dismisses with a wave of her hand and a roll of her eyes as she reaches for her beer glass (which she realizes - again - is empty). “We talk all the time. We, like, bonded over our shared trauma at the hands of Harper or whatever.”

“Really?” John asks doubtfully. “When’s the last time either of you so much as uttered the name ‘Harper’ in conversation?”

Before Abby can answer, Riley arrives with a tray. “I might have mentioned the occasion, and the bartender insisted we have a round of shots on the house.”

Abby slides into the booth, allowing Riley to sit on the outside. “I’m going to die before graduation,” she jokes.

“At least you’ll die in good company,” John chimes in with a tone of voice and a wink that is the absolute opposite of discreet.

She’d prefer to kill him but settles on kicking him under the table instead.

* * *

“Well, ladies,” John says, slapping both hands onto the top of his thighs before carefully standing up from the booth in their fourth bar of the night. “Did you know,” he says, slur creeping through, “that Germans announce their intent to leave gatherings by slapping their hands to their legs and saying some monosyllabic gibberish word as they stand up?”

“The more you know,” Riley responds with sarcastic enthusiasm.

“Anyway,” John continues, pulling himself into a more composed posture, “I’m afraid that this is where I leave you. I’ve got a book signing at noon tomorrow, and I need to _not_ smell like a distillery.”

Abby drags herself out of the booth to pull John into a sloppy hug. “Thank youuuu,” she drawls. “For everything. For being there for me today and for this awesome celebration.” She pulls him closer, then adds, “and for Riley.”

She can feel him smile against the side of her head. “You’re so welcome.” He pulls out of their hug, then reaches around Abby’s side to draw a now-standing Riley into a brief hug, too. “Lovely to finally meet you in person, Riley. Really glad you’re not Abby’s drug dealer.”

Riley cackles as they separate from their hug. “What?”

John looks confused and shakes his head like he’s trying to get dust out of his hair. “Never mind.” He looks directly at Abby. “Text me when you’re home safe, okay?”

Abby mock-salutes him. “Yes, sir.”

John scoops up his jacket from the booth seat and spins on his heel to go. “Have fun!” he calls over his shoulder.

John’s departure leaves Abby and Riley both standing at the end of the table.

“So,” they say simultaneously, drawing a laugh out of both of them.

Riley moves around to John’s side of the booth to sit down, and Abby returns to her previous seat, sliding Riley’s beer across the table to her.

“Isn’t it funny that we’ve only seen each other, like, five times ever, and two of those have been drinking at drag shows?” Abby comments.

Riley chuckles. “I’d argue that I’ve seen you every day for over a month,” she counters, never breaking eye contact. “But it does seem to be a thing, seeing as I also texted you about it on...what? New Year’s?”

“And Valentine’s Day,” Abby adds.

“Oh, God, right.”

“I guess it’s a thing,” Abby agrees with an easy laugh.

“Well, it definitely served a purpose,” Riley says, now more quietly as her gaze fixes on her glass. 

The bar is much quieter now, the show on a short break, and most patrons using the time to use the bathroom, go outside for fresh air or a smoke. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind. How about one more for the road?” Riley offers, holding up her nearly empty glass. “I gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll get them on the way back.”

“Works for me,” Abby agrees.

John texts her shortly after Riley sets off for the bathroom, and it’s nothing more than a bunch of the emojis of two girls holding hands and the kissy face. She rolls her eyes and sends back a short _I hate you_ before shoving her phone back in her pocket.

Abby chats briefly with one of her fellow doctoral candidates - no, graduates - who passes by the booth. He excuses himself as soon as he notices Abby’s eyes fixate on Riley returning to the booth.

“Your friend didn’t have to leave!” Riley says anxiously as she slides back into the seat.

“Oh, it’s all good. He’s here with his partner anyway. We aren’t that close, just classmates.”

“Oh, okay. As long as you didn’t shoo him off because of me.”

Abby makes a raspberry sound with her lips. “Please. You’re not that embarrassing,” she teases.

“Wow, thank you,” Riley says with sarcastic earnesty. “You’re too kind.”

“I know, I know,” Abby says smugly, polishing off her first beer and grabbing the fresh one Riley had just brought. “Cheers.”

“Cheers to Doctor Holland,” Riley says, holding up her own new beer.

“No, no, no, not this time,” Abby argues, pulling back her glass to avoid Riley’s. “We’ve toasted to me enough. Here’s to you pulling off a huge surprise and _literally_ showing up at my doorstep to surprise me. I know we’ve just been cutting up and drinking all day, but that really means a lot to me.”

“Anything for you,” Riley says simply. “Cheers to our drag show reunion,” Riley offers, this time receiving a clink from Abby’s glass in return. 

They each take a long sip, and Riley speaks again immediately after. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at your defense.”

Unfortunately, the show starts again as soon as Riley speaks, rendering it incredibly difficult for Abby to hear her. “What?” she replies loudly.

Riley huffs. “I’ll tell you when we leave,” she says loudly. “It’s more serious, and I don’t feel like saying it at high volume over Tracy Thai performing Toxic.”

Abby wants to argue, but she’s far too tipsy and jovial to bother. “Let’s play a game,” she says instead.”

“A game?” Riley says doubtfully. “I thought this was the last one.”

Abby laughs. “It is.”

“I’m listening.”

“I dunno, I always play Never Have I Ever at parties. I already know everything about John, and he’d just try to embarrass me, so that was a no-go earlier. But now-”

“Now that he’s gone, you see a window of opportunity to embarrass me?” Riley interrupts, laughing.

“No!” Abby counters immediately. “I don’t even know enough of your secrets to embarrass you even if we weren’t alone now, _Gertrude_.”

Riley groans. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Tell me your real middle name, and I will. Didn’t you say you just had to be drunk? Where did I go wrong?” Abby complains playfully.

“Well, it’s too forced, now!” Riley argues. “Anyway, back to your game. I’m down. You start.”

“Oh. That was easy. Anything to move away from your middle name, huh?” Abby pokes, earning a blank stare in return. “Okay, fine. Never have I ever...oh, I didn’t consider my drunkenness level when I had this idea. This is hard. Um…” she trails off, looking at the ceiling for a stroke of inspiration. “Never have I ever had brown eyes.”

“What are you, twelve?!” Riley cries out, taking a sip of her beer. “Is this how you play this game?”

“I’m sorry! I just gotta get warmed up.” Abby defends herself.

“Fine. Never have I ever smoked weed.”

“What?!” Abby says, shocked, before taking a drink. “How?”

“Overachieving combined with the constant threat of random drug testing,” Riley clarifies with a shrug. “Your turn.”

“Never have I ever cheated on someone.”

“Nope, me neither.” 

The music gets louder, and Abby can no longer hear her. “What?”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Riley complains. “Move, I’m coming over,” she says, rising from her seat and sliding in next to Abby. 

“If one of those performers comes over now and tries to get me to sing into the microphone, I’m gonna have a meltdown-inducing sense of deja vu,” Abby says as Riley slides further into the booth, close enough that their legs are just touching. “Now, what did you say?’

“I said, ‘me neither.’ My turn. Never have I ever been terrified of spontaneous karaoke.”

“Oh, come on, that’s lame,” Abby whines, taking a tiny sip. “Never have I ever been on a blind date.”

Riley takes a sip. “God, unfortunately, I have. Earlier this year.”

“Really? Just the one?”

“Yup,” Riley says with a dramatic pop of the ‘p.’ 

Abby feels a not-so-rhythmic knot in her stomach, which isn’t exactly what you want to feel when you’ve been drinking. “You didn’t tell me about it. Was it before we started talking?”

“Sorta,” Riley replies somewhat absentmindedly. “I think it was in the middle of March. Honestly, I just did it because my coworker Sarah - you know, the one who-”

“Who asks you to swap shifts all the time? Yeah, I know.”

Riley beams. “Right, her. Anyway, she was _insistent_ that I go out with her cousin. It was fine but definitely more of a wingman vibe than an ‘I-wanna-make-babies-with-you’ vibe if that were even scientifically possible.”

“Gotcha. Have you had a lot of dates recently?”

Abby has no idea why she said that.

“Seriously?” Riley questions doubtfully, raising a single brow pointedly. “Don’t you think I would have mentioned it when we were talking _every single day_?”

“Yeah, that was a dumb question, sorry,” Abby admits sheepishly.

“My little Canadian. Stop with the apologies,” Riley commands. “I don’t think spending all my free time talking to another woman would bode well for dating someone besides said woman.”

Abby gulps as the rhythmic knot makes its dramatic return. “Yeah. Silly me. Uh, whose turn is it?”

“Mine. Never have I ever…” Riley drums her fingers on the table as she thinks. “Never have I ever had a tattoo.”

Abby shakes her head. “Nope.”

Riley’s mouth hangs slightly open as a complement to her wide eyes. “Seriously?!”

“Seriously. Couldn’t decide on the exact right design to live with for the rest of my life.”

Riley shakes her head regretfully. “There’s an excellent joke hidden in there about an art history student and permanent art, but my drunk ass can’t find it right now, sorry.”

Abby laughs anyway. “I’ll forgive you just this once.”

Riley clasps her hands over her heart. “Thank you for your mercy.” Then, more seriously, “It’s your turn.”

Abby takes a sip of her beer. “The sip wasn’t related. I just felt like it. Uh...never have I ever…” she trails off, glancing around the bar. “Oh, God. Never have I ever seen our mutual ex walk into a bar with someone who looks like she could be our lovechild.”

Riley looks dumbfounded. “Huh?” After following Abby’s gaze, she follows up her confusion with an _oh_ drowned in realization. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peep the chapter count...we're almost there. See ya tomorrow <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you all so much for all of your comments on the last chapter! I think that was the most comments I've gotten on a single chapter so far and I really appreciate that. ❤️

Abby thinks it would be a fair assumption to say that Riley is as _delighted_ to see Harper at that moment as she is.

“What do you say we take this party elsewhere?” Riley offers. “I’m not really in the mood for dramatics.”

“Likewise,” Abby agrees, grabbing her jacket. She drops her right hand onto Riley’s thigh. “After you.”

Riley looks at her blankly for a second before jerking into motion and walking to the bar, leaving her jacket behind on the side of the booth where she’d been sitting originally. Abby scoops it up and follows behind her.

They hang behind a crowd at the opposite end of the bar from where Harper and the woman she arrived with are currently standing. “You gotta pay at the other end, sorry!” the bartender finally calls out to them.

“This’ll be fun,” Riley mutters under her breath.

“Come on, just let me go alone,” Abby insists.

“No way! You can’t pay for your own celebratory drinks. Besides, what kind of an asshole would I be if I was just chillin’ outside while you have to go deal with...whatever we’re calling this situation?”

“Fine.”

Riley reaches the bar first and squeezes in between two barstools that are slightly farther apart than the rest. Abby squeezes in next to her, her front pressed to Riley’s left side as she leans an arm on the bar in an attempt to block Riley’s face from Harper’s view and make only the back of her own head visible.

It doesn’t work, and a few moments later, Harper is standing at Abby’s right side, a bit behind Riley. “Abby? Hi.”

“Heyyy,” Abby tries to say casually.

Meanwhile, Riley leans far enough over the bar that it looks like she’s trying to climb over it.

Harper laughs a little. “Is your friend okay?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re good! Nice to see you! Wow!” Abby says a little too much enthusiasm.

“Are you sure? Oh, wait, wasn’t your defense today?” Harper remembers with a bright smile.

“Yep, sure was. I passed. I mean, obviously. Not that I’m so full of myself, but, I mean, I guess drowning my sorrows would look a little different,” Abby rambles.

“Right, of course,” Harper agrees, shooting a glance back over her shoulder towards the booths. 

Abby notices at that moment that Harper is alone. Under normal circumstances, she’d probably ask Harper where her date went. Right now, though, she just wants this moment to end immediately.

“Well, I better get over there,” Harper excuses herself, pointing backward over her shoulder. “Congratulations,” she says, pulling Abby into a quick hug from the side.

Abby finds herself wishing she’d moved away from the bar and directly behind Riley when the slight change in angle seems to be just enough to tip Harper off. 

Harper leans to the side and looks again. “Riley?” 

Riley whirls around, shoving her credit card back in her wallet at the same time. “Oh, _hey_ , Harper. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah, I could say the same thing. Isn’t Baltimore kinda far for a night out in Pittsburgh?”

“Who says I’m just here for a night?” Riley counters.

“Riiight,” Harper draws out skeptically. “Is this a thing now? Like, you two?”

Riley looks at Abby, and their faces are inches apart. 

Abby would kill to read minds. “I don’t-”

“You know what,” Harper interrupts. “I’m sorry. That’s less-than-zero percent my business,” she apologizes with an embarrassed laugh. “I gotta get back to my...date. And you can get back to...yours.” Her eyes dart back and forth between Abby and Riley’s faces.

Abby doesn’t bother correcting her. “Yeah, okay. Nice...seeing you?” she shakes her head at herself. “Bye, Harp.”

“Bye,” Riley chimes in.

Harper just waves as Riley and Abby squeeze away from the bar and move towards the door.

“Well, that wasn’t on my Pittsburgh bingo card,” Riley notes as she pulls her jacket on. 

Abby laughs heartily. “Mine either, and I live here.”

“How many times have you run into her now?”

“Oddly enough, that’s only the second, at least where we were close enough to talk. I wasn’t expecting her to have a...date, though.” Glancing to her right, Abby notices Riley gnawing at her lip uncomfortably and feels compelled to keep talking. “Or at least not a date who looks like the exact combination of the two of us. Seems like a weird interpretation of ‘third time’s the charm.’”

“Is that okay with you?” Riley asks hesitantly. “That Harper had a date.”

“What?” Abby blurts out, surprised. “Harper can do whatever she wants.”

“You sure?”

Abby rolls her head around in a circle instead of rolling her eyes. “A hundred percent.”

“Okay,” Riley responds simply.

“Okay.”

They walk the next half a block in silence, the wheels in Abby’s mind turning a mile a minute. Maybe it was tipsy wishful thinking, but Riley almost seemed jealous at the thought of Abby being unhappy with Harper having a date. Spontaneously, she loops her hand under Riley’s arm and grabs it around her elbow. The iron butterflies all but burst out of their cages with force when Abby notices, out of the corner of her eye, that Riley turns to look at her with her lip pulled between her teeth in a very _different_ way.

Riley smiles widely and quickly turns her head to look at the ground again. They continue another block or so in comfortable silence, Abby’s thumb absently trailing a short path up and down Riley’s upper arm.

“Wait a second,” Abby comments suddenly, stopping abruptly on the sidewalk. “Where are you staying? I didn’t see a suitcase, and my apartment isn’t exactly a mansion.”

“Oh,” Riley blurts out. “Well, it’s not at your apartment. I, uh, wasn’t sure what the situation in your apartment was. John wasn’t very helpful, and I couldn’t exactly ask you about your couch’s sleeping conditions without you being all, ‘why is this weirdo asking about my couch?’ I’m staying at the Hilton Garden Inn around the corner from your place.”

“You booked a hotel?!” Abby exclaims. “You didn’t have to do that. I just meant that I couldn’t have missed it when I said the thing about the mansion, not that there wasn’t space for you.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I wasn’t sure about the couch?”

“Right. The couch. It’s totally fine,” Abby comments dismissively. “You’ll see it now anyway. I can walk you to your hotel whenever you’re ready to go.”

Along the rest of the way back to Abby’s apartment, Riley recaps how she worked with John to plan the surprise, detailing how she’d had to cash in her favors with Sarah and another resident to arrange her shifts to get three days in a row off. Traffic, along with some confusion at the hotel’s front desk, had almost made it so that Abby and John beat her to Abby’s apartment.

“Yeah, so I made it here with about fifteen minutes to spare,” Riley finishes just as they reach Abby’s apartment.

“All of that hassle for me,” Abby comments. “I’m impressed.”

“You’re worth it,” Riley says, leading to Abby almost dropping her keys.

They make their way inside. “Make yourself at home. Do you want a drink?” Abby offers as she walks into the kitchen.

“Whatever you’re having.”

“Water in one hand and beer in another it is.”

Abby grabs the drinks from the fridge and carefully makes her way over to the couch, where Riley has plopped down. “And? What’s your verdict on the couch?” 

“Thank you,” Riley says, grabbing the drinks. “Comfier and bigger in person than it looks on camera,” she continues, bouncing on the couch a little for effect.

“Then my Ikea delivery was worth the wait.”

“Your apartment is bigger than I expected,” Riley comments, looking around. “I know I was here earlier, but I was so stressed I didn’t even notice.”

“Yeah, you know, it feels like you’ve been here before.”

“It really does. Seeing it every day for so long made it feel that way.” Riley puts her beer and water bottles on the table. “Seeing _you_ in person is definitely different, though,” she says in a more serious tone.

Abby gulps. “Me too,” she says, then shakes her head. “I mean, seeing you in person is different.”

“Good different?”

Abby pushes some hair out of Riley’s face and behind her ear, letting her hand linger for just a moment at the side of Riley’s face. “Definitely,” she breathes out before moving her hand back to her own lap.

“By the way, what I wanted to tell you earlier,” Riley begins as she grabs Abby’s hand that she just returned to her lap, “when it was loud at the bar?”

Abby stares at their hands. “Yeah?”

“I actually thought about coming to your defense and changed my mind like fifteen times. I had a few friends who did PhDs when I was in med school, and it was pretty strict when it came to who could enter the room. Plus...I saw how nervous you were for _weeks_ and how you planned everything so carefully. I didn’t wanna throw you off by just showing up in the room all of a sudden. And, I know you said you’re good at public speaking, but it’s different when your worlds collide...work and private, I mean.”

Abby feels like she laughs, but it comes out sounding like a breath she’d been unconsciously holding. “Yeah, I think I would have had a heart attack. I mean, I almost did when I saw you _here_. Imagine that in combination with having to actually do the defense at the same time.”

“Well, I do know CPR.”

Abby laughs for real this time. “I’m glad you were here. And it means a lot to me that you put so much thought into it.”

“I haven’t thought about much else for weeks,” Riley comments as she reaches for her water bottle.

Abby can’t find the smooth words to say that the only thing she’s thought about, besides her defense, in weeks has been Riley, so she shuts herself up by following suit and taking a big sip of water. 

“Abby?”

“Hmm?” Abby answers, half into the bottle.

“What are we doing?” Riley asks.

“Um, I dunno. Are you tired?”

Riley giggles, and it’s the most wonderful thing Abby’s ever heard. “No, I meant you and me. What are we doing?”

Abby scrunches her brow. “Right now…?”

Riley moves closer and puts her free hand on Abby’s knee, putting them back in nearly the position they’d been in before they left the bar. “I mean, in general. With us.”

“Oh!” Abby’s heart pounds in her chest. “Oh. Um…”

“Shit,” Riley mutters, shifting back slightly and letting go of Abby’s hand. “I read that totally wrong, didn’t I?”

Abby feels like she’s struggling to keep up with both her own mind as well as Riley’s words. “What?” is all she can manage.

Riley suddenly looks concerned. “Are you okay?”

That’s enough to snap Abby out of it. Not wanting Riley to enter doctor mode, she snaps back into, at least, a semblance of clarity. “God, yes, sorry. And sorry that I apparently have no idea how to talk tonight. I swear I’m really not that drunk. It’s just been a hell of a day.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up now after the day you’ve had.” Riley puts the water bottle back on the coffee table and wipes her hands on her pants. “Should I go? You’re probably exhausted.”

“What? No!” Abby exclaims. Then, more evenly, “I mean, of course, you can if you want, but don’t go because of me.”

Riley puts her hands over her face. “Sorry. No, that’s not what I meant,” she says through her hands.

Seeing Riley’s nervousness, Abby feels a surge of confidence and shifts on the couch to close the gap that Riley just recreated. “Good,” Abby says as calmly as she can when she reclaims Riley’s hand into her own.

“Am I crazy?” Riley asks.

“What do you mean?”

Riley is staring at their joined hands. “In asking about us. That’s...we’re...something, right?”

Abby pulls their hands into her lap and sets her water bottle on the table. “I made a PowerPoint.”

Riley looks more confused than Abby’s ever seen her. “Like...for your defense? Isn’t that normal?”

“Yes,” Abby says through a laugh, “but that’s not what I mean.” She takes a deep breath. “I made a PowerPoint about us. And it had two slides: one, ‘we are flirting.’ Two, ‘I am delusional.’”

Abby can hear Riley’s breath catch before she speaks. “And what did you come up with?”

“Nothing,” Abby laughs again. “Because you called me as soon as I started making the slides. But I thought...that’s a sign. Who else would I make PowerPoints about, or video call with every single day in basically all of my free time, or text before I go to sleep and as soon as I wake up? I mean, I realized later that I started doing that when I did because I was thinking about you, and I was thinking about you because it was almost the time that you call me every day.” Abby pauses, joining Riley in looking at their hands. “It was obvious.”

“Obvious that you’re delusional? Sorry, bad joke.”

“Obvious that I was dedicating every second of my free time to getting to know you,” Abby admits confidently. “And flirting with you. Obviously.”

“Thank God,” Riley says quickly. “I thought I was losing it for a second there. I was pretty sure, but then-”

“Riley?” Abby interrupts.

“Hmm?”

“I feel like I have to clarify that I don’t usually make presentations unless I am absolutely required to. But...you’re on slide one, too, right? I’m not delusional, and we _have_ been flirting now for...months?”

“That’s what I was getting at earlier with the ‘what’s going on with us?’ question,” Riley responds as if it’s obvious.

“Good. So then we’re on the same page?” Abby asks.

“Looks like it,” Riley replies.

“Finally,” Abby mutters. She moves her left hand up behind Riley’s head and slowly starts to lean in. “Is this okay?”

“So okay,” Riley breathes out, moving her own free hand to rest on Abby’s ribs as the distance between them closes, and their lips meet for the first time.

Abby takes back her earlier decision that Riley’s giggle was the best thing she’d ever heard when a tiny whimper sneaks out of the back of Riley’s throat behind their joined lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THESE TWO USELESS LESBIANS FINALLY MADE IT
> 
> Anyway, I have some things to say...
> 
> A few of you asked about why Riley didn't show up to Abby's defense. When I started this story, Riley showing up in Pittsburgh for the defense was one thing I knew from the beginning would happen. I briefly considered having her make her surprise appearance at the defense, but then I thought about how my wife was when she defended her Ph.D. thesis last year...and I'm pretty sure she would have murdered any surprise visitors 😂 I think Riley knew Abby would be happy to see her in general (as she was pretty sure Abby had feelings, too, by that point), but she wouldn't want to overwhelm her and therefore wouldn't see that as the right moment for a surprise.
> 
> My beta said that this should be the end of the story. If you agree, you can consider this the end - and, if so, THANK YOU for sticking with me and reading this story. If, like me, you're not ready to let this go quite yet, stay tuned.
> 
> I'm really sad that this story is almost over 😭
> 
> P.S. - Yes, I casually edited this note 2 days after posting because I decided there will be one more chapter plus an epilogue instead of just an epilogue. YOLO.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...so...you may have noticed that the chapter count went from 13 to 14. I know I said that there was only an epilogue left, but I changed my mind and decided to betray my beta because I really felt like this chapter was needed, but it didn't fit in the epilogue since it picks up immediately from the previous chapter. I guess if you're here, it's because you're enjoying this fic, and you're therefore probably not gonna complain about an extra chapter, but I just wanted to clarify that. Enjoy!

Abby is currently re-ranking the list of her favorite sounds (what feels like) every few seconds.

The sharp intake of breath through Riley’s nose when their tongues meet for the first time? _Very close_ to the whimper at number one.

The barely-there groan at the back of Riley’s throat when Abby grazes her bottom lip with her teeth? New number one.

The breathy _fuck_ that sneaks out as just more than a whisper when Abby redirects her attentions to Riley’s ear? Takes the throne. 

At some point, sitting _next_ to one another on the couch, torsos twisted toward one another and wild hands roving is no longer enough. Abby’s shift forward to get as much contact as possible leads to her left leg moving over Riley’s lap. Abby finally straddles Riley as she pushes her back into the couch. Abby leans back slightly to look Riley in the eye, hands gently cupping both sides of her face. “Still okay?” she pants.

Riley grabs Abby’s hips with both hands and pulls her closer. “ _God_ , yes,” she husks, her left hand moving immediately to feed through Abby’s hair as she pulls their faces together for another searing kiss.

Abby feels sensory overload returning. The sights, like the way Riley closes her eyes and throws her head back as Abby’s lips explore her neck; sounds, like the way both of their breathing seems to grow increasingly loud; and sensations - like Riley’s nails scratching at her scalp as they kiss, all wash over her. A shuddery breath slips through her lips and straight into Riley’s ear, sending the nails of Riley’s right hand into her shoulder and starting the whole cycle over again.

“Abby,” Riley says gently, using the hand entangled in her hair to bring their faces back together. “You good?”

“So good,” Abby replies immediately, rushing to rejoin their lips. 

Riley kisses back with just as much vigor before pulling away again a few moments later. “I can’t believe I’m even bringing this up right now,” she begins, sounding far away. “But I’m pretty sure we’re both taking this to the same place, and I’m just wondering if…” she stops abruptly, shaking her head.

Abby leans back against Riley’s knees. “If…” she coaxes.

“Listen,” Riley starts, moving her hand out from Abby’s hair and onto her cheek. “I want you... _so_ much. Like, imagined every day for weeks how this would or could go levels of ‘so much.’”

Abby feels insecurity wash over her. “But?” 

Riley leans forward slightly, pulling Abby closer to her again to kiss her softly. “But nothing. I want you so much in a way that makes every nerve ending in my body feel like it’s on fire, _and_ I also...God,” she breathes out, “I haven’t talked about feelings with anyone but my therapist in a fucking long time. I want you, _and_ I also like you and care about you more than pretty much anyone I don’t share chromosomes with.”

Abby smiles just a little, pushing some errant hair back behind Riley’s ear. “I like you, too.”

“Good,” Riley laughs. “So, I guess what I’m saying...or maybe what I’m asking, is...ugh,” she groans. “I can’t believe I have one of the hottest women I’ve ever seen straddling my lap right now, and I’m actually saying this. I’m going to give up my lesbian street cred membership.”

Abby laughs. “One of the hottest women you’ve ever seen? Where?”

Riley swats the side of Abby’s butt. “Shut up. I’m just saying that I have a lot of big-time, gay feelings for you and, while I’m not hanging on to some teenage ideal of ‘our first time should be special!’ I do want to do this right. Today has been an insane day, and I don’t want something like this to be the afterthought.”

Abby puts a finger under Riley’s chin. “Hey,” she breaks in, nudging Riley’s chin up gently. “I’ve thought about this every day for, like, a month. You could never be an afterthought.” 

Riley smiles a little, so Abby continues, taking one of Riley’s hands in her own. “But...maybe you’re right. As much as I want this,” she pauses to kiss Riley’s fingers, “I also want to remember every little detail. Where you have moles, the way you say my name into a pillow-”

Riley lets out a shuddery breath that interrupts Abby. “You’re making me reconsider pumping the brakes,” she says breathily. 

“Oh, trust me, there is literally nothing I would rather do right now than go back to what we were just doing. But I...well,” she squeaks, “I want you to have my undivided attention for as long as it takes. And I’m pretty sure I’m being sustained by adrenaline alone right now.”

Riley laughs. “I’m so tempted to make a medical joke about what happens after an adrenaline dump, but I’m going to resist and instead say...” She stops, moving Abby’s hand down to press between her legs. “I can’t wait to show you tomorrow just how badly I want this.”

“Tomorrow, huh?” 

Riley raises an eyebrow. “Did you have something else in mind?”

“Fuck no,” Abby clarifies insistently and with a kiss.

Around three, when they finally tear themselves away from each other and stop swapping stories of times one thought the other was flirting but wasn’t sure, Abby walks Riley back to her hotel, where they again struggle to separate at the door.

They agree to meet the next day in the lobby at noon, and Abby walks downstairs.

“Hey!” Riley calls behind her.

Abby spins around on her heel. “Miss me already?”

Riley laughs as she walks the rest of the way to Abby, dragging her small suitcase behind her. “Something like that. I was thinking...I don’t know when one of us will manage some time off again so that we can see each other, but I do know that I can sleep alone whenever I want. So if it’s okay with you-”

“Yes,” Abby interrupts. 

Riley beams. “Great. I’ll just...check out.”

Back at Abby’s apartment, they get ready and lie down in bed quickly. They lie facing each other, their legs tangled and their faces inches apart.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Abby says quietly. Tiredness burns behind her eyes, and the comfort of her pillow begins to drag her down slowly.

Riley moves a hand on top of Abby’s hip, leaning forward for a soft kiss. “Me too.”

As much as she tries to resist it, Abby yawns after Riley pulls away. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly before yawning again.

Riley kisses her nose. “Don’t be. It’s,” she rolls backward, looking at the time on her phone, “almost four. Time flies.”

Abby laughs through her nose. “Good night,” she says, punctuating her words with another soft kiss.

“Good night,” Riley says, kissing Abby again. “Have I mentioned how incredible it is that I can do that instead of writing you a text?”

They both fall asleep immediately, limbs a tangled mess and heads on the edges of their pillows.

* * *

Abby hates bladders.

She wakes up just after eleven, a sliver of sunlight sneaking through a gap in her curtains to beam directly in her eye. The unwanted wake-up leads her to the unfortunate realization that a slow, lazy rising isn’t in the cards, and she slides carefully out of bed and pads to the bathroom, trying not to wake Riley.

Knowing that it’s late enough that there’s no chance of falling asleep again, she takes her time in the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face and brushing her teeth. When she’s finished, she tiptoes to the kitchen and grabs two bottles of water. As she closes the fridge and turns around, she sees Riley standing up from the bed.

“Shit, sorry,” she mutters. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” Riley dismisses. “It was kinda bright, and I had to pee.”

“I know the feeling,” Abby commiserates.

“I’m gonna…” Riley points at the bathroom and moves that way.

“Right, of course. I’ll be...there,” Abby says, gesturing at the bed. 

She hears Riley brushing her teeth before returning.

At first, it’s a little awkward: like they’re both walking (lying?) on eggshells, each unsure how the other feels about what happened the night before.

Fortunately, Riley doesn’t waste any time in addressing it. “Hey,” she says, dragging her hand up from Abby’s waist to cup her cheek. “You good?”

“Of course. Why?” 

Riley moves her hand to grab Abby’s and shifts closer. “You sure? You’re not...I dunno, like, you remember everything, right?”

“Of course!” Abby squeaks. “Absolutely everything. Really.”

“And you’re...happy about it?” Riley ventures.

“Are you not?”

“No!” Riley answers quickly. “I mean, I am. Happy about it. But I just wanted to...check.”

Abby ducks her head. “Last night feels like...a dream. And I thought you were maybe...having second thoughts.”

Riley moves closer and pulls her into a kiss, immediately letting her tongue enter the picture as one hand threads through Abby’s hair while the other wriggles free from Abby’s hand to pull against her by the waist. “Does that feel like second thoughts?” she asks, lips still close enough that they ghost over Abby’s while she speaks.

“I think you should maybe...show me again.”

Riley grins lasciviously. “I can do that.”

The combined sounds of their growling stomachs ultimately stop them not long after.

Abby decides that she also hates stomachs.

* * *

They go for brunch nearby, each of them fending off the short night of sleep and after-effects of just a little too much alcohol with a plentiful amount of pancakes and coffee. In the restaurant’s calmer, quieter environment, at least compared to the previous day’s bars, Abby fills Riley in on as many details of her defense as she can remember.

“I’m so proud of you,” Riley beams, holding up her champagne flute of mimosa. “Cheers.”

“I think we did a lot of that yesterday,” Abby says through a laugh. “But cheers,” she says, raising her own glass to clink against Riley’s.

Riley sets her glass down and picks up her coffee to drink the last sip. “I feel like a new person.”

“Me too. Breakfast food works miracles,” Abby agrees.

“Pro tip: eggs are the best hangover food.”

“I did not know that.”

“The more you know,” Riley singsongs, moving her hands in a rainbow motion. “It’s the cysteine in the eggs.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Abby giggles. “So, what’s on your agenda today?”

“My agenda?” Riley questions. “You live here. Shouldn’t you be entertaining me?” 

“But _you_ seem to have some tricks up your sleeve. No more of those?”

“Fair,” she admits with a chuckle, “but no. I didn’t really know where _we_ would be today. I mean, not where _physically_ but more-”

“I know what you mean,” Abby interrupts gently. “So what you’re telling me is that we have a day and a half of no plans right now?”

Riley smirks. “It would appear so.”

Abby leans forward on her elbows. “Any ideas?” she asks with a grin.

“I have exactly one idea.”

“And that is…?” Abby prods.

“You lead us back to your place because I have absolutely no idea where we are, and we figure out what we missed out on last night.”

Abby chose the worst possible moment to finish her mimosa and almost chokes. 

“Oh, come on, you set me up for that, and you know it,” Riley says.

Abby coughs. “I really did,” she admits. “Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“Hear me say that I’ve been thinking about last night since the second I opened my eyes this morning? No problem.”

Abby has never gestured for a server to bring the check so frantically in her life.

* * *

After an arm-in-arm walk back to Abby’s apartment that’s more leisurely than anticipated, Riley interrupts Abby’s attempts to be polite (“Do you want something to drink? Should I make more coffee?” she’d offered) with a kiss that has Abby pressed back into the kitchen counter.

“Do _you_ want more coffee?” Riley says, her lips grazing Abby’s with each word.

“No.”

“Good. Me neither.”

They don’t even make it to the bed before their shirts have been peeled off.

* * *

The weekend is perfect except for one thing: it’s too short.

Come Sunday morning, Abby can’t remember the last time she’d been in bed so long. Maybe when she’d had the flu a few years prior, but that was certainly nothing compared to the present weekend.

“If you were anything other than a doctor responsible for literally saving other people’s lives, I would distract you with sex until you agreed to call in sick,” Abby says on Sunday morning, her head on Riley's chest and an arm and leg thrown across the other woman’s body.

Riley laughs, and Abby’s head moves along with the hearty rise and fall of Riley’s chest. “If I were anything other than a doctor responsible for literally saving other people’s lives and nearing the end of an inhumanly intense residency, you wouldn’t even have to try.”

Abby sighs. “I didn’t exactly have _any_ of this on my bingo card for this weekend, but in this case, I’m not complaining.”

“If you had that much sex on your bingo card without knowing I was gonna be here, I think we’d need to have a conversation about what it is that we’re doing here,” Riley retorts.

Abby laughs. “My previous plans involved getting drunk with John and hibernating to recover from stress, by myself, might I add, so I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about.”

Riley gasps. “You weren’t even going to talk to me?! Rude.”

Abby playfully smacks Riley’s thigh. “That was a given.”

Riley turns her head to the side, gazing out the window. “Being away from you is going to suck so much more now.”

Abby sighs, feeling her breath drift across Riley’s chest and over the hand she’d just moved to rest under Riley’s shoulder. “No shit.”

Riley laughs. “I appreciate your ability to use the word ‘shit’ in literally any situation.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love a dirty mouth.”

Abby shivers all over. “You’re not going to be leaving in half an hour if you start talking to me like that,” she warns, slowly dragging her nails down Riley’s side.

Goosebumps appear on Riley’s skin in the wake of Abby’s fingers. “I’m going to leave here in half an hour against my will and dragged out kicking and screaming by the metaphorical ghosts of residents past.”

Abby laughs, placing a kiss on the middle of Riley’s chest. “Can I ask you something?”

“If you’re wondering if I believe in ghosts, the answer is not really, unless you really piss someone off who dies soon after.”

“Oh, you mean like if you murder them?”

“You get me!” Riley responds enthusiastically. “But seriously, of course, you can ask me anything.”

“What now?”

“Well,” Riley begins seriously, “first of all, I’m gonna have to wash my face and put some cover-up on my neck. I don’t want to look like I’m into some weird, experimental, vampire shit if I have to stop and pee on the way home.”

Abby pulls back and looks at Riley’s neck. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Could you maybe stop cussing? Those words coming out of your adorable mouth really do something to me,” Riley chastises. “Anyway, after I ensure that I look like a normal, living, breathing person with a pulse, you’re going to look at your calendar and figure out when you can make it to Baltimore, potentially on short notice and potentially in the middle of the week.” 

They tear themselves apart soon after, Riley moving into the bathroom to freshen up and Abby digging fresh clothes out of her dresser, getting fully dressed for the first time since the morning before.

They settle on a week in the middle of July for their next visit. Although it’s further out than either of them would like, it’s the first time that what’s known of Riley’s work schedule allows for more than one day off in a row and that Abby isn’t already booked solid with pet sitting for the summer vacation period. 

“Could you maybe...not walk me to my car?” Riley asks as they slowly make their way towards Abby’s front door, Riley pulling her suitcase behind her.

“Are you sure? I don’t mi-”

“I know,” Riley interrupts. “It’s just that...I want to end this weekend where things are perfect, not standing in some parking lot while kids are crying about not wanting to leave grandma or boring businessmen are arriving for their next week of wheeling and dealing in a new city.”

Abby smiles sadly. “That makes sense.”

They stop at the front door, Riley with her back to the door as she wraps her hands around Abby’s waist. “I’m gonna miss the shit out of you, Abigail Elizabeth Holland.”

“Likewise, Riley Gertrude Bennett,” Abby responds with a chuckle. “Sorry, until you tell me otherwise, it’s Gertrude.”

Riley grumbles. “I don’t even have a middle name.”

“What?!” Abby exclaims, aghast. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Riley counters. “It’s a fucking nightmare when filling out literally anything official, but I don’t have one. Honestly, I just wanted to see what you would come up with.”

Abby rolls her eyes playfully. “Well, it’s Gertrude now.”

“Do you have a fetish for incredibly older women? I think we should talk. I’m only a year older than you. This might not work.”

“Shut up.”

Riley lifts her chin defiantly. “Make me,” she challenges.

“I can do that,” Abby says under her breath before capturing Riley’s lips in her own, sending both of them up against the door.

They stay there for a moment before Riley pushes gently against Abby’s chest. “It should be a crime for me to say this, but I need to get going.”

“Yeah, I know,” Abby admits. “So.”

“So.”

“Drive safely,” Abby offers lamely.

“Can do,” Riley says with a mock salute. 

“And call me when you get there.”

“I can do that, too.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“This sucks,” Abby complains. 

“Yes, it does,” Riley agrees. ”Seven weeks and three days.”

“Who’s counting?” Abby retorts, feeling like tears are threatening to spill over.

“Don’t be fooled. In my dark moments, I’ll literally calculate the seconds.”

Abby leans forward for one last short, soft kiss. “Keep me posted on that calculation.”

“You know I will,” Riley replies, punctuating her words with another kiss of her own. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss the shit outta you, Gertrude.”

Riley smirks but shakes her head. “The sexiness of the swearing is really canceled out by the ‘Gertrude,’ I gotta say.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to rile you up too much before a long drive. I need you to arrive in one piece.”

“I’ll do my best,” Riley promises, reaching for the doorknob. “Bye,” she says sadly.

“Bye.”

Ten minutes later, Abby is wallowing on her couch and staring at the ceiling when her doorbell rings. She heaves a sigh, throwing her legs over the side of the sofa to begin making her way over to the door. The doorbell had rung two or three times on Saturday, presumably a neighbor wondering if Abby had accepted a delivery for them and wanting to collect their package.

The bell rings again. “Coming!” she shouts back, annoyed.

“I haven’t-” she begins as she throws the door open, stopping in shock when she sees Riley standing there. “Miss me already? This is becoming a trend.”

“You know I did,” Riley replies immediately. “But that’s not why I’m here, or I never would have left.”

“Oh. What did you forget?”

“I forgot to lock it down.”

Abby laughs. “What?”

“Abby, this weekend was fucking amazing, and I can’t even tell you when I last wished so damn hard for time to just stop passing.”

“Aww,” Abby coos, “it was the same for me.”

“Good,” Riley breathes out. “So the reason I’m here is really just to say...it’s to say that I’m fucking crazy about you, and I would be really fucking happy if I could say that you were my girlfriend.” 

“Do you say ‘fuck’ a lot when you’re nervous?”

“Maybe,” Riley admits.

“I thought so,” Abby comments, reaching for Riley’s belt loops and pulling her toward the doorstep. “Don’t be nervous. Obviously, I’d be really fucking happy about that, too.” She kisses Riley to make her point.

“You and your swearing,” Riley groans as a car honks in the distance. “I gotta go. I’m double parked.”

Abby doesn’t really know what else to say, so she just leans in for another quick but intense kiss instead. “Bye, girlfriend,” she teases as she pulls out of the kiss.

Riley laughs, and the way her breath dances across Abby’s lips feels like heaven. “Bye, girlfriend,” Riley retorts, jogging back down the stairs and into her car.

As Abby watches Riley drive away, she reflects that Riley’s laugh might actually be the best sound. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I conclude this chapter with a note from my beta:
> 
> "Look guys, the final line of the last chapter was just *chef's kiss* to me, but we both knew an epilogue would help fill in the longing that all of you have for this wonderful story. However, this author is unhinged and wrote another whole ass chapter because she can't let go like you guys and I love that about all of you, in a way. I HAVE YOUR BEST INTERESTS AT HEART! With that said, this chapter was incredible wasn't it???"
> 
> And now, for real, from me again: see you soon for the epilogue ❤️


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> The time has come. Slight formatting change here for the epilogue and a shift out to 3rd person omniscient (shoutout to my language arts teachers) POV instead of a focus on Abby.

_i. summer_

A four-hour drive would probably be a way-more-manageable distance under two conditions: one, Riley not working eighty-hour weeks regularly; and two, Abby having a car that would be trustworthy enough to spontaneously drive two hours to meet Riley somewhere in the middle, or even make the entire trek to Baltimore.

As it stands currently, neither of those conditions is met. Abby loses count of the number of times she talks Riley down from renting a highly overpriced rental car on short notice.

“Come on, Ri,” Abby tells her soothingly on a scorching hot day at the end of June. “I’ll be there in two weeks. Not that seeing you isn’t worth any price, but I would never ask you to drop like, multiple hundreds of dollars for me to drive there for a day and a half.”

“You’re not asking,” Riley counters. “I miss you,” she follows up with a sigh.

“I miss you every second of every day.”

“But?”

“But nothing. Two weeks. Two weeks and then I’ll be there and I’m all yours,” Abby reassures her.

“Two weeks,” Riley echoes quietly. “That doesn’t really help me with my current predicament, though.”

“Oh no,” Abby replies, concerned. “What predicament?”

“Well,” Riley begins casually, “every day I get home from work and you’re not here. And, worse,” she continues more dramatically, “you are _never_ in my bed when I lie down and can’t think of anything else except the way you sound when you come.”

Abby’s reaction has two direct outcomes: one, she kicks a glass of ice water over and spills it all over her laptop (which Riley absolutely cannot deal with, and she overnights Abby a new one, earning her a severe scolding).

Two, she recovers as smoothly as she possibly can and says, “Well, why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Talking each other through all the things they want to do to one another and what they feel as they do them isn’t even ten percent as good as the real thing, but they both reason that almost ten percent is immeasurably better than nothing. The time between visits passes just a little more bearably after that.

_ii. fall_

Abby lands, somewhat spontaneously, a one-year curator contract in Philadelphia as a temporary replacement for someone taking parental leave.

“And, more news,” she tells Riley happily over the phone.

Riley takes her chances. “You have a commuting allowance and remote work arrangement that’s going to enable you to be in Baltimore on the reg?”

“Damn, I was pretty happy about what I had to say. Now it’s just shitty in comparison.”

“You know I’m kidding. What’s the news?”

“I’m buying a new car.”

“Thank _fuck_!” Riley shouts. 

Riley manages a day off when Abby arrives in Philadelphia with her life packed away in her new car and a single trailer.

“A Subaru? Seriously?” Riley deadpans, earning only a playful shrug from Abby in response. “I love you even though you’re a walking stereotype.”

Abby grins. “I love you even though you just told me you loved me for the first time while making fun of me. Lucky for you, I already knew.”

“Oh, you did, did you?”

“Please,” Abby dismisses sarcastically. “You’re practically obsessed with me.” 

“And? I have my doubts about people who _aren’t_ obsessed with you. Not that I’m looking for competition,” Riley retorts. “Besides, are you implying you’re _not_ obsessed with me?”

“Hell no.”

They both lose count of how many times each of them manages to sneak an _I love you_ into the conversation that weekend, but it makes them giddy every time.

The drive is now under two hours, Abby has reliable transportation, and _damn,_ it feels good to see each other every week.

_Iii. winter_

As Christmas rolls around again, neither Abby nor Riley can honestly say it’s a sad occasion when Riley gets her December work schedule and it’s clear she won’t be able to travel home.

“Gosh, Ri, _how_ will you cope with missing the event of the year with the White Elephant party?”

“I would literally rather do triage for three days straight than sit through that this year. God, could you imagine Harper’s face if we showed up together? Or _Tipper’s_?”

Abby laughs. “Oh, I’m there in this imaginary scenario?”

“Duh. If my parents don’t meet you soon, they’re going to get worried that I made you up like my childhood friend Bonzo. Why would I want to spend Christmas without you?”

Abby’s heart swells, and it grows even more when Riley gets home (what Abby catches herself calling it as she lounges on Riley’s couch) from the hospital around six in the evening on Christmas Day. They spend the rest of the evening watching absurd Christmas romcoms on TV and eating every single Christmas cookie Abby baked that afternoon.

“Oh my god! I was the townie in this Hallmark movie, and Harper was the weird guy the lead brought home but didn’t fit with _at all_! Why did it take you five months to realize you were secretly yearning for me?” Riley jokes at the end of one of the movies.

“Hey! It was only four months. It just took me a while to...realize that I wanted to talk to you twenty-four-seven because I was pining away and not because you’re kind and understanding and hilarious. Which, in my defense, is also true.”

They spend the rest of the evening cuddled on the couch, discussing the timing of their meeting and reliving when they each (March and April for Riley and Abby respectively) realized they were clearly more than drag bar drinking buddies.

“This was the best Christmas I’ve had since I was eighteen,” Abby says sleepily into Riley’s shoulder later that night. “I love you.”

_iv. fall_

Riley finishes her residency three days after Abby’s curator contract ends. 

“Man, it feels like I just got here, and it’s already time to move on again. Weird,” Abby comments, taping up another box before dragging it to sit with the others near the front door.

“Are you complaining? Because I’m sure we could find a way to keep living in different cities if you prefer,” Riley jokes.

“You caught me. Man, I love seeing you and sleeping in the same bed as you only once a week. Maybe we can amp it up and try living on different coasts, relive our early days of waiting months,” Abby plays along.

“Love that for us,” Riley says. “I hope your laptop is still fully functional. I’m not buying you another one, and you’re gonna need it if you intend to return to our previous arrangement.”

“As much as I love phone sex, I’m gonna have to stick with the ‘living together in New York’ plan we’ve got goin’ on here.”

“Hey!” Riley whines. “It’s not phone sex when there are _cameras_.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Riley beams. “Thanks! I try. What would we call that anyway? Camera-supported mutual masturbation? Camsex?”

“This is literally the least sexy thing you’ve ever said to me.”

New York City, rife with hospitals as well as museums and universities, would soon be their new shared home - right after three desperately needed weeks of vacation in Europe before they both start new jobs.

_v. winter_

Abby speed walks through the kind of freezing rain you only get in December - just the time of year when you wish you’d get some snow to add to the spirit of the season instead. She laments forgetting her umbrella as she finishes the short walk from the subway station home. She walks inside, kicking the remaining slush off her shoes on the doormat as the sounds of Bob Dylan’s _Must Be Santa_ echo down the hallway.

“Babe?” Abby calls out. “You home? I thought you were at work ‘til eight tonight.”

There’s no response, so Abby shrugs off her jacket and makes her way to the kitchen to try to sort out the dinner situation. As she moves away from the front door and into the hallway, she notices the walls are lined with...papers?

The first thing Abby sees is a screenshot of what looks like a phone’s call log. Weird.

A foot further and on the opposite wall is a dark, grainy photo of Riley and Abby together at The Oxwood for the first time.

Abby continues down the hall, and, with every step, there’s something new: a photo, a screenshot of a conversation, tickets from a movie, each with a piece of paper with the date taped on the wall above it.

“Ri?” Abby calls out again, again getting no response.

Abby finally reaches the kitchen, where a slip of paper with _December 23, 2022_ scrawled on it hangs on the door frame. When she walks through the door, Riley is standing in the middle of the kitchen.

“Hi,” Riley says nervously.

Abby walks up to her and greets her with a kiss. “Hi.”

“Did you know that we met two years ago today?” Riley blurts out suddenly. “Or at least it’s the anniversary of our infamous night out.”

“I actually did,” Abby admits. “But if I _had_ forgotten, I saw it on our wall a minute ago. Was that really from _your_ call log?”

“Yup,” Riley admits. “The first time you ever called me.”

“Riley-”

Riley cuts Abby off. “Followed soon after by our first picture together, of course. The first time I texted you. The first time you sent me a selfie. Sometimes I catch myself just thinking about everything we’ve done together and been through to get where we are now.”

“It’s been amazing,” Abby agrees.

“Abby,” Riley says with a shaky voice, “the last two years have been an incredible ride. And I might not have known right away what you would eventually mean to me when I made you sing this fucking song that’s been playing on repeat for at least twenty minutes now, but I did know as soon as we sat down in that bar that you were someone special. You’ve shown me almost every day since then that I was right.” Riley takes a step closer and touches her hand to Abby’s cheek. “What I could put on the wall was only the stuff with a paper trail...the pictures, the texts, the events. But all the times you were there for me, made me laugh, made me feel beautiful, walked me around a museum telling me bits of information you know I would forget ten minutes later because the _way_ you told me was more exciting...I can’t hang those things on a wall. But, what I can do is tell you that I want a lifetime of those experiences with you. I want a lifetime of making _you_ feel beautiful, making _you_ laugh, and telling you stories about surgery with words you have no business having in your vocabulary, but yet you do because you’re _you_.”

Abby’s eyes already start to well as Riley takes a step back.

“It’s December twenty-third, and that’s the last date on the wall. I don’t have a picture for it yet, but I do have this.” She pulls a small, black velvet box from her back pocket and opens it while she drops to one knee. “You are the love of my life. I have no idea what I did in this life or any previous one to deserve you, but I look at you every single day _knowing_ how lucky I am like I know that the sky is blue. I love the life we’ve built together and I love _you_. Abby,” Riley says, pausing for a deep, shaky breath, “will you marry me?”

A sob escapes Abby’s throat, and the tears that were clinging to her eyelids for dear life spill over. “Yes,” she chokes out. “One hundred percent, would do it right this second, yes.” She reaches for Riley’s hand to pull her to her feet.

Riley removes the ring from the box, casting the box onto the table haphazardly as she redirects her full attention to Abby.

“It’s perfect,” Abby says as Riley slips the ring onto her finger. “ _You_ are perfect.”

The next day, they drive to Riley’s parents’ house for Christmas, and they both cry all over again when they share the news with Riley’s delighted parents, both of whom squeeze Abby in the type of hugs that only parents can give. 

That evening, they’re lurking in a corner of the Caldwell house living room, espousing the joys of mysterious types of spiced alcohol. “This is weird, right?” Abby says suddenly. “I feel like it’s super weird.”

Riley examines the glass. “Spiced alcohol? I dunno. Guess it’s kind of a European thing.”

“No, you goober. Us being here.”

“Abby, relax,” Riley says calmly. “Harper has probably brought at least two other women who were nowhere near as sexy and interesting as you are home to meet her parents since the last time you were here. You’re old news,” she says with a wink. “Besides,” she continues, stepping into Abby’s side and rubbing her arm, “we just have to suffer through White Elephant to keep up appearances, and then we can get the fuck out of here.”

“Well, aren’t you two gals the cutest of pals!” Jane exclaims, suddenly appearing at their sides. “Wait. Oh. Duh. You’re obviously a couple,” she concludes, realization visibly dawning on her. “Oh my _god_!” she shrieks before looking back and forth between them. “Is that a ring?” she whispers dramatically. 

Riley chuckles. “Keep your voice down,” she says. “You know I’ve got no problem prancing around in rainbow attire, but I don’t need Tipper swooping in trying to create Instagram content or screeching about making a scene.”

“Good point,” Jane agrees. “But you’re _engaged_! Isn’t that just the _most_ exciting thing?!” she beams. “Gosh, I was going to announce my second book tonight, but this really takes the cake. Oh, shoot! I was going to announce my second book! Gotta run,” she apologizes, setting off for the kitchen.

“How is she related to the rest of this family?” Abby muses.

“I have no idea, but I love her,” Riley says with amusement as she watches Jane scurry out of sight in the kitchen. She takes a sip of her drink and suddenly coughs. “Harper alert,” she says, but it comes out sounding more like another cough. The comical widening of Abby’s eyes before she could have possibly seen Harper approaching lets Riley know the message was understood.

“Hey,” Harper greets them cheerfully. “I was wondering who Jane was getting all excited about over here. This is a surprise.”

“Is it?” Riley replies at the same time Abby casually says hi. They shoot each other a glance, both clearly also noting that Harper is by herself.

Harper laughs easily. “Okay, it’s not a surprise that you two are together, but it is a little bit of a surprise to see you standing in my parents’ living room. You two being _you two_ was pretty obvious when Abby couldn’t resist mentioning Philadelphia’s proximity to Baltimore five times the last time we saw each other before she left Pittsburgh.”

“Oops,” Abby says innocently.

Harper’s eyes visibly land on the ring. “And you’re engaged,” she observes.

Abby and Riley share a look. “Yeah,” Abby says, wrapping her arm around Riley’s waist, “for...almost exactly twenty-four hours.” She can’t help but beam in Riley’s direction.

“What a place to celebrate,” Harper says sardonically. “I’m sure we’ll start White Elephant soon, then you can make your great escape,” she continues conspiratorially. Then, more seriously, “I’m really happy for you both. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Harp.”

“Harper!” Tipper calls demandingly from a distance. “I need you in the kitchen!”

Harper rolls her eyes. “That never changes. Guess I better…” she trails off, gesturing at the kitchen.

“The White Elephant overlord beckons you to her lair,” Riley says.

Harper laughs. “Yeah. As usual. I’ll see you guys later?” 

They both nod in response.

“Good. And...congratulations. Really.”

_vi. spring_

A month before the wedding, Abby and Riley receive an invitation to Jane’s book release party in Brooklyn. They hang back in the coffee area, waiting until the book signing winds down before making their way over to the table where a glowing Jane is sitting with John.

“Hey, guys!” Jane greets them cheerfully. “Thank you so much for coming! Of course, you get signed books, too!” 

Jane scrawls a quick message in two books and hands them over. “We’re wrapping up here soon, right?” she asks John, who nods. “Can we all go get dinner after this? I’m so excited to see you guys on your home turf!”

“We’d love to,” Abby says. She looks at John. “Text me when you guys are done, okay? We won’t go far.”

They walk out onto the sidewalk, and Riley flips the book open. “‘To the sister I wish I had,’” she reads aloud. “Oh my god, I love her. I’m going to ask her to be a bridesmaid.”

“What?” Abby cackles.

“I’m serious! That’s _exactly_ the kind of wholesome crazy I want surrounding me.”

Riley was, in fact, one hundred percent serious and Jane practically sobs as she agrees.

The wedding day finally arrives. Abby has to force herself to keep breathing when Riley appears, sporting a perfectly tailored white suit, at the end of the aisle with her dad.

They write their own vows. Naturally, both manage to send the wedding guests into fits of laughter before switching gears to turn the waterworks on for everyone.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Pennsylvania, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss the bride.”

They’ll later wonder how they actually managed to kiss instead of awkwardly smashing their teeth together through what were undoubtedly the most intense smiles of either of their lives.

“Holland-Bennett is a really long name,” a guy who they think is Riley’s dad’s partner at the firm says to them after dinner. “My daughter’s got a friend who just got married. Invented a new last name, those two. Turned Smith and Johnson into something like _Smithson_. Guess your solution is probably better.”

They’re grateful for the DJ interrupting a never-ending marathon of greetings and well wishes for one of the only traditional elements of their wedding: tossing the bouquet and garter. 

“I’m pretty sure Jane’s been practicing for this,” Abby whispers in Riley’s ear. “Get a good look at where she’s standing and...uh, do your best. I wanted to make a sports joke, but I got nothin’.”

“I’d be worried if you made a sports joke for the first time ever _on our wedding day_ ,” Riley jokes as the DJ starts a countdown.

As he says _three_ , Riley tosses the bouquet over her shoulder and hears it thump against something on the way.

“Well, this is awkward,” Jane says before Riley can turn around.

“It hit the ceiling beam. So, ah...well, it didn’t exactly reach Jane,” Abby clarifies quietly.

Riley spins around just in time to hear Abby snort and see Harper, sporting a full-blown deer-in-headlights expression, holding the bouquet. 

Riley cackles. “This is _exactly_ the kind of crazy I wanted!” Only Abby hears her as the guests direct their attention to Harper and clap. Abby can’t help but notice Amber looking on appreciatively.

“Is that dog park girl?!” Riley asks under her breath. “I just realized I’ve never seen her before. Thank god, or I would have seriously had to up my game to woo you.”

“Please. The single day I thought she was interested was filled with terror because I couldn’t deal with thinking about anyone but you.”

John catches the garter because, of course. “If you’re using this archaic tradition in the hopes I’ll succumb to the societal pressure to get married and have sex with exactly _one_ gentleman for the rest of my days, I’ve got some bad news for you,” he tells Abby out of the side of his mouth as they pose for a photo. They both enter such a fit of laughter that their eyes are barely open in the picture.

Abby smirks privately when she spots Harper and Amber chatting alone over drinks as the night winds down.

Later that night, when they’re half asleep after too much partying and wedding-night sex neither of them is sure how they found the energy for, Abby breaks into the silence. “Hey babe?”

“Hmm?” Riley answers quietly, turning to place a soft kiss on Abby’s forehead.

“Do you remember that time you asked me to watch a movie on Easter weekend? And you had to teach me how to use Discord like a child?”

“Yeah…?” Riley replies questioningly into Abby’s hair. 

“Was that a date?”

“We just got _married_ seven hours ago and you’re asking me if something two years ago was a date?” 

“Yes?” Abby squeaks. “I hadn’t thought about it in a while! But I also haven’t seen Amber in person in forever and it just reminded me of when I told her I had a date that night and then had a meltdown wondering why I said I had a date with you.”

Riley cracks up. “Oh my god. I love you.” She takes a moment to catch her breath. “I mean, it didn’t really work out like it would have if I’d said, ‘do you wanna go _see_ a movie together?’ But yeah, I thought it was.”

“So you’re telling me I lost out on what could have been six more weeks of dating you? Damn. I feel cheated.”

“Babe,” Riley says, amused. “You’ve got a few thousand more weeks left with me. I think you’ll be okay.”

They both fall asleep soon after, each silently resolving to make the absolute most of every single one of those few thousand weeks.

_the end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get sappy, I'd just like to address the subject of Riley's last name: her family is clearly referenced as "The Bennetts" in the movie, but she's listed as "Riley Johnson" in the credits and here on AO3. Since I used Bennett earlier in the fic, I kept it here.
> 
> Now all I can say is THANK YOU. Thank you to my beta Kim for supporting me in writing this entire fic in a month and feeding me with wonderfully wacky ideas. Thank you to all of you for your kudos, comments, and for simply sticking with this fic and reading until the end. You've brought me a lot of happiness this past month ❤️
> 
> It's incredibly hard for me to let this story go (seriously...I probably could have kept writing forever), so I'm certainly not done with this ship. I need a break from multi-chapter fics for a bit, so I'm happy to accept any Abby/Riley prompts that you have and turn them into one-shots if I can. You can put them in the comments here or send them to me on Twitter (@ohniceshark) or Tumblr (ohnice1). You can also follow me without prompts because I'd honestly just really like some more people to scream about this ship with.
> 
> Until next time...


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